


for you, i'd give my soul to keep

by samoosifer



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky/Steve - Freeform, Hair Pulling Kink, In a way, Kinky sex, M/M, Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Mythology - Freeform, Rusalka, Rusalki, Scratching Kink, Stucky - Freeform, Tattooed Bucky Barnes, Tattoos, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Tragic Romance, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, bucky turns him bottom bc of his... aura???, he has his own arm, i think, mild bondage, not really - Freeform, really fucking kinky shit going down, rusalka!bucky, sharp teeth kink, steve has a v tragic past, steve/bucky - Freeform, this is all new for me, witchy!nat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samoosifer/pseuds/samoosifer
Summary: “Wow.” Steve whistled. “You know a lot about flowers.”Bucky looked up at him. “Steve, come on. I grow them at will with my emotions. Of course I know a lot about them. Don’t be a dick.”~or~steve rogers, tragically emo past, lives in a forest on his own bc hes a dramatic fucker. he meets a mysterious man that is not all he seems. he escapes back home to stay with his mom but shit gets even weirder when he meets a holistic green witch who knows more than she is letting on. follow steve and bucky on their journey to try and be a normal fucking couple for once in their god damn lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewriterofperfectdisasters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/gifts).



> round 2. fingers crossed i finish writing this garbage.
> 
> for dee bc no matter what happens, i'll always be eternally grateful to her for all the help shes given me with my writing <3

An owl hooted loudly in the night, flying low over where Steve Rogers lay on the ground, struggling to breathe. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and it definitely wasn't the last. The past three nights in a row he'd tried, and failed, to at least get a look at an owl that had been hanging around. He'd come extremely close this time though. He'd spotted it sitting up in the tree and Steve hadn't thought, he'd just jumped into action. 

He'd climbed the tree as quietly as possible, doing his best not to disturb anything at all. He'd been so close to getting a photo but right as he'd been getting his camera ready, a loud crack had ripped through the peaceful night air, scaring the owl away. A split second later, Steve was falling through the tree, crashing into branches and scaring away every other bird in the vicinity. 

Now, Steve was lying on his back, winded and in a decent amount of pain. He hadn't been that high up, but he'd landed on a branch awkwardly and he was almost certain he'd sprained his wrist. Which was what he definitely didn't need. As he lay there, waiting for his breath to come back to him, he pondered why he was even doing this. There were plenty of other birds that he could paint. Birds that weren't nocturnal, birds that would come up to him, asking for some of his lunch. 

It was times like these that Steve considered moving back home, Getting a desk job again and being closer to his mom again. All it would take was one memory to come rushing to the front of his mind to remind him that no, he couldn't go back. It was too hard. His cabin was the only source of solitude he had. The birds the only friends he needed. It sounded dramatic and weird but Steve had finally found peace this way and he couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever. 

Steve struggled to get to his feet and turned his camera on, groaning at the sight of the cracked lens. He pushed aside his upset and used the light from his camera to examine his wrist. It was starting to swell already, a dark purple bruise blooming beneath the skin. He wasn't going to be painting any time soon. Steve sighed and started gathering up his scattered things as best as he could, swapping his camera light for his torch once he found it. He swept the light over the surrounding area but he couldn't see his bag anywhere at all. 

Steve pointed the light upwards and swore, spotting his bag hanging from a branch. There was no way he was going to be able to get that with his hand out of use. He groaned loudly and picked up as much as he could carry before trudging back towards the cabin, cursing himself for not testing the branch. This night had not gone to plan at all. 

Steve's home came into sight a few minutes later and he almost cried in relief. He was suddenly so tired and in so much pain. He didn't even have the energy to go back and get the rest of his things. He went inside, dumped all his shit on the couch and went straight to the first aid kit. Once his wrist was bandaged up, he sent a goodnight text to his mom, and went straight to sleep.  
\--

Steve had moved to his cabin almost two years ago, distancing himself as much as possible from his home town after the accident. When he'd finally been found not guilty, he'd stayed at his mom's house for a month before the looks became too much. The looks, the comments, the staring. Everyone knew him. Everyone. Steve's face had been plastered all over the newspapers, the court case the biggest story on the news every night. Magazines wrote nasty articles about him, spreading more lies and rumours. 

Even after the case had ended and he'd been allowed to properly start grieving, it hadn't stopped. He'd tried, goddamn had he tried. He'd somehow pulled himself from one day to another, dealing with the loss. But when he'd finally felt ready to go back to work, that had been it. His first day back, the whispers and the laughs and the glares had pushed him off of the edge. 

They all thought he did it. No one cared that the police had confirmed that his alibi had checked out. No one cared that he'd been found not guilty. No one even seemed to consider the fact that he was grieving as well. Sure, they'd all worked with Evan but had any of them been in love with him? Had any of them lived with him for four years? Had any of them been about to propose to Evan? No. It was only Steve. 

At the end of his first day back, he handed in his resignation and went home, taking all of his things with him so he didn't have to go back. It had too many painful memories anyway. Like when he'd first met Evan. Their first kiss in the elevator. The late nights together, the carpooling to and from work. His desk had remained untouched, waiting for Steve to return so he could grab Evan's things. The only things Steve had left of Evan. Everything else had burned in the fire. 

A week after he'd quit his job, Evan's life insurance and his final pay had come into his account and Steve had used it to buy his family's cabin from his mom. She'd done her best to convince him to stay, telling him it would blow over eventually, but Steve couldn't wait for eventually. He wanted to move on now. In peace. He wasn't going to get that at home, so he'd up and left. He'd taken the few remaining things in his possession and had started afresh. New house, new furniture, new Steve. 

If only it had been that easy. 

Steve's cabin was up in Vermont, not far from the border. It was in a big forest, filled with pines, and maples and sycamores and every other type of tree you could think of. It was almost in the middle of nowhere; the nearest house was a mile away and there was only one road to actually get to Steve's home. Initially, he'd been planning on finding some small job to pay his bills but even the small town he lived near watched the news. Only a few people recognised him, but it was a few too many for Steve. His first day out there, he'd bought supplies and had retreated back to his house, not leaving for a month. 

It didn't take long for Steve to start running out of money though. After he'd bought the house, furnished everything and stocked up on all kinds of art supplies, he didn't have that much left. He didn't waste time though. He found a small art gallery in the next town over that liked his work and had organised a contract with Steve. He spent all his time on his own, painting anything and everything, mostly birds. Once a month he'd drive into town for supplies and to sell his paintings. 

Two years of this and Steve had found an uneasy peace. He'd come to terms with the accident, had moved on from that part of his life. He still missed Evan more than words could say, but it was easier to deal with the dull ache within him these days. 

The town had forgotten about him. Bigger things had happened, more interesting stories to gossip about than Steve's alleged murder of his boyfriend. Every now and then, he'd meet someone new though. They'd look at him with that look in their eye, trying to figure out where they knew him from. Sometimes they'd remember on the spot or sometimes they'd go home, forgetting about him all together. 

Steve couldn't forget though. Every time he was recognised it was like being thrown two years into the past. He'd suddenly have flashes of the hot fire raging around him, choking him and burning him alive. The panic would clench his throat, stealing his breath away worse than the smoke ever could. He could hear Evan. Screaming, crying out for Steve. Begging for Steve to get out. 

Steve knew though that no matter how far down the line it was, no matter how much he'd moved on, that night was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. The memories seared to the back of his eyelids, rearing their ugly heads every time Steve closed his eyes to sleep. As if the scars weren't enough to remind him. 

\--

Steve's home had been in the family for generations upon generations. His mom had spent her summers as a child there with her family and in turn, had taken Steve there during his childhood. The vacations stopped when his dad had died of a heart attack when Steve was sixteen. His mom could no longer afford to take the time off and Steve hadn't wanted to revisit the memories so soon. 

The summers he spent at the cabin as a child were possibly the greatest times of his life. Every day was spent exploring, climbing trees, and having picnics under the sun. In the last few years, when he was thirteen, Steve found a river perfect for swimming in. Not too deep, not too wide and not too fast. It was beautifully refreshing water and after Steve had found it, he jumped at every chance to swim in it. 

He couldn't explain his obsession with it. There was a lake just a short drive from the cabin. A stream coming off the river and running close to the cabin. Hell, there was a mini blow up pool outside the cabin for those particularly hot days when no one could be bothered to walk anywhere. Steve kept going back to the river though. Even when it was too hot to walk, he had been drawn back, day after day. In the end, his parents had just let him go by himself, trusting him to be careful. 

Which Steve was. He would always swim in the same spot, wouldn't swim where he couldn't stand, and he wouldn't stay long if he was on his own. The days when he was on his own were the best though. He'd play games, lie in the sun, or just float downstream before swimming back up. It was a safe area, most likely unseen by humans since the cabin was built in the early 1900's. The forest had a very wild look about it that proved it was owned by the animals but now it belonged to Steve as well. 

Or so he'd thought. 

Steve had just turned fourteen years old, it was the hottest day of the summer, and he was at the river by himself. He had been lying in the sun for at least an hour and was no doubt burnt to a crisp. The perfect time for Steve to get in the water and cool off. He waded in lazily and floated on his back, paddling against the current every now and then. But he got tired. Too tired to keep himself afloat. 

Steve put his feet down to go sit in the shallows but his feet just kept going down, finding nothing but water. This was when Steve had started to panic. His head was throbbing and his arms were so weak. In the back of his head the words 'heat stroke' flitted through briefly but Steve was too young to properly know what it was. He was being carried further and further down, away from where his parents would think to look for him, away from the safety of shallow water and into the unknown depths.

The current pushed him under and Steve got a mouthful of water. He came up spluttering as he struggled to get his arms to work, fighting hard against the forceful water. He was so far away from where he was supposed to be, the river was picking up speed and Steve still couldn't breathe properly. Suddenly there were rapids upon him, pushing him down under, again and again as soon as he came back up. 

Just when Steve was losing all hope, strong hands were suddenly gripping his arms tight, pulling him from the waters roughly. He was dropped onto the ground and a low, gravelly voice muttered under their breath. 

“I won't let it happen again. Far too young.” 

Steve could just register heavy footsteps walking away as he gasped for breath. He was coughing up water, struggling to push himself up; everything within him was protesting his every movement. Steve opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness, and just managed to see a man with glistening, long brown hair walking away. Years later, Steve knew he must have been delirious with almost drowning and the heat stroke, but at the time he was certain that whenever the man lifted his bare feet, there was a patch of small, colourful flowers left behind. He slipped into the darkness of the trees and Steve dropped back down, panting hard. He blinked slowly, only just managing to take in the boulder in front of him, the weird lines resembling a face, as his vision faded along with his consciousness.

He must have laid there for a while because when his parents finally found him, it was starting to get dark and his mother had been crying. They helped him up and walked him back to the cabin. Neither of them believed he'd been rescued. They were convinced he'd just somehow dragged himself out of the water, blacking out as he did so due to the panic. In all the time they'd spent in this forest, neither of them had ever seen a topless man with long brown hair. 

The image of the man with the flower feet stayed with Steve for most of his childhood. He would draw this faceless man hiding in trees, lurking beneath the water, walking into a sunset while leaving flowers in his wake. Steve became obsessed. It wasn't until his mom, grieving over her husband's death and struggling to make ends meet, threatened to send Steve to a therapist if he didn't “stop wasting time drawing and get a job to help pay the bills.”. 

Needless to say, Steve did exactly as she said. He knew it was an empty threat, that she couldn't afford to send him to a therapist but he loved his mom and he did everything he could to help her get through. He got an after school job at the supermarket and settled down into the life he had been destined for; thoughts of the strange man and his flowers disappearing. 

It wasn't until he was out walking one day, a couple of weeks after he’d sprained his wrist, when he found the river again. He was further up from where he used to swim and it was completely unrecognisable. But Steve knew it was his river, he could feel it. Besides, he was fairly certain there weren't any other rivers in the forest. 

He slowly started walking down, his plans to find a new tree to draw completely gone from his mind. It took him about half an hour to find it, but he finally did. The clearing where he used to swim. Looking down on it now, Steve was confident he'd be able to touch the riverbed. The water probably only reached just above his waist. 

It was a warm day, the sun was streaming through the leaves in the tree tops and was warming the top of his head. It wasn't warm enough for swimming though. Steve sat down on the grassy banks and started unpacking his supplies when the memory of being pushed under by the currents came back to him. So suddenly and so vividly that Steve actually gasped for a second, struggling to breathe as though his lungs were filled with water. 

He sat there, one hand holding his notebook and the other clutching at his throat. For the first time in twelve years, Steve thought about the man he thought had saved him. Steve was twenty eight years old, had almost completely forgotten that he'd nearly drowned, and all thoughts of the river had basically left his mind. He hadn't thought about this man since he was sixteen and he was still convinced that the strange man with the flowers growing beneath his feet had saved him. 

Steve abandoned his art supplies and jumped up. He glanced at his watch and dithered about for a moment. He'd spent far too much time wandering around already. He needed to get something done before it got too late to find his way back to the cabin. He didn’t even have his torch, and yet Steve set off further down the river, desperate to find the spot where he'd seen the man. 

After a while, he came across a large oak tree with impossibly thick branches stretching out in every direction; over the river, dipping into the water, pushing other trees out of the way with it's growth. Steve marvelled at it for a moment, making a mental note to come back so he could paint it from every angle. It was one of the most beautiful trees he'd ever seen. He had definitely passed where he'd seen the man though. He would have remembered seeing a tree like that on his way back no matter how young and delirious he was at the time.

Steve started wandering back up the river slowly, scanning every little detail he spotted, trying to trigger a memory somehow. He was just staring at a certain part of the bank when he walked into a boulder and fell over, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Steve grunted and rolled onto his back, glaring angrily at the canopy above him. There was a loud laugh in the trees and he shot into a sitting position, his head looking from side to side as he tried to find the source. 

Not only had some asshole laughed at him for falling, but they hadn't even come to help him up or asked if he was okay. Granted he was, it was just a small fall over a boulder, but it was still a dick move. Steve stared angrily at the boulder lying at his feet, annoyed at himself for not seeing it. It was half buried in the ground with weird grooves all over it that slightly resembled a face. And suddenly Steve remembered. This had to have been where he'd been rescued. This boulder was the last thing Steve remembered seeing before passing out.

Steve struggled to his feet and looked downstream. There was no way in hell that big tree had been there. He was certain of it. He would have remembered a tree that magnificent. Plus, that was the direction the man had walked in. The tree was too big to go around, and unless this man could walk through trees, the tree hadn’t been there. But as Steve considered that thought, he realised that it would be hypocritical of him to believe a man could make flowers grow beneath him but not believe he could walk through trees. 

He walked down to the tree, stepping over the large roots protruding out of the ground. Surrounding the roots, wildflowers had sprouted wherever possible. Flowers that Steve wasn't even sure should be growing in this kind of forest. Steve looked around slowly as a strange feeling of peace fell over him. A feeling of safety and tranquillity. It was getting dark and if he didn't head back soon, he'd most likely get lost in the darkness of the woods without his torch. But still, he felt so relaxed. There was a soft melody playing in his head and he found himself sitting down on a large root, leaning back against the base of the tree. 

Steve lazily rolled his head to the side to look at the flowing water and almost fell off at the sight of a face in the water. All feelings of peace and safety left him with a cold sense of panic. Steve stood up and stared hard at the water, trying hard to see the face again but there was nothing but flowing water. Steve watched for another minute before shaking his head and turning away. 

He stumbled away from the tree, remembering to avoid the boulder, and rushed back up the river. It was a race against the sun. Already it was too dark to see properly in some areas. Steve found his art gear and swiped it up, barely stopping as his muscle memory kicked in, taking him back to the cabin on the same route from his childhood. As Steve entered the tree line, he glanced over his shoulder one last time and was almost certain he saw someone standing on the other side of the river. 

He got back to his home, locked the door, pulled the curtains closed and lit the fire, desperate to shake the ghostly underwater face from his memories. There was no way it was real. It had been a trick of the dying light, all in his imagination. Still, before Steve went to bed that night, he rummaged through the storage cupboard and found his old wooden baseball bat, taking it to bed with him. Better to be safe than sorry, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing on this side of the river, Steve?” He asked casually, as if it was a normal question to ask. The man was very pale, Steve noticed. Something in him was telling him to run but his body was just locked on the spot, stuck staring into the man's eyes.

Steve awoke the next morning to his phone ringing. It was rare for him to get decent enough service for calls to come through so he jumped on it, hoping like hell it was the gallery owner. It was his mom. Steve stifled a groan and answered the call, falling back down on his bed with a thump. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“Hi sweetie, how you doing?” 

“Pretty good. You?” 

“Missing you of course. I'm okay though. Cassandra came by last night and got me drunk. I haven't been drunk in years!” She laughed. 

Steve smiled into his pillow, feeling sleep start to pull him back under. “That's great mom. How's work?” 

“It’s been alright. I’m dreading winter though. I can’t stand the amount of people coming in with a pathetic cold. Meanwhile there’s some poor man that needs to be seen for something serious but everyone has booked all the doctors up because of the sniffles.” Sarah groaned. “I guess it’s my fault for being a receptionist.” She sighed, the sound of blankets rustling in the background. “What about you? How's your work?” 

“Oh, you know. Same as usual.” Steve yawned. 

“What time did you get to bed last night? You sound exhausted.” 

“Yeah, because you woke me up at-” Steve pulled the phone from his ear to squint at the time and groaned loudly. “Seven in the morning. Mom, what have I told you about this?” 

“Steven, I am your mother and I will call you whenever I damn well please.” She said airily. “I hardly get to talk to you anyway. You can deal with it for one morning.” 

“Fine.” Steve sighed. “Just don't get mad if I fall asleep on you.” 

“Have you been into town at all lately? When was the last time you actually spoke to someone in person?” She asked sternly. 

“I don't know, a few days?” Steve lied, thinking about the fact that he was actually due for his monthly visit to the gallery. 

“Don't lie to me, Steven. It's not healthy this once a month business. It's been two years. You can't seriously be getting recognised so much that you can't talk to people more often.” His mom said sadly. 

“Mom, that's not the point anymore. Originally, yes, I wanted to get away from everyone to grieve properly in my own way but… I'm happy, mom. I'm finally happy out here. There's no one to bother me at all, I can paint as much as I want and it's just better for me. The fresh air and the good memories.” 

Sarah sighed heavily, clearly wanting to push it further but deciding against it. “Well, when are you coming to visit your mother? Hmm? Don't I get to see my son more often than once a month?”

“What about this weekend?” 

“Perfect. Stay the night. I'll cook your favourite dinner.” She said happily. 

“Sounds good, mom. Do you mind if I go back to sleep now?” Steve asked, wriggling further down under his blankets.

“I guess. I just hope you're taking care of yourself, Steve.” 

“I'm fine, mom.” 

“Says the man who fell out of a tree and sprained his wrist a few weeks ago. At night, might I add.” She snorted. 

“Occupational hazard.” Steve muttered, thinking back to his fall last night. He was suddenly wide awake as he remembered the face in the water. He sat upright and climbed out of bed, heading out to the living room. “Mom, do you remember when I almost drowned in the river?” 

“Unfortunately. Why?” 

“I found the river again. Completely overgrown in some places but, can you remember, when you and dad found me, was there a huge giant oak tree nearby? Like, so big it had grown over the river and had giant assed roots coming out of the ground?” 

“Uh- I don't think so... I mean, I was pretty distraught at the time. I wasn't paying much attention to the scenery, Steve.” She said thoughtfully. Steve could almost picture her tapping the side of her face like she always did when she was trying to remember something. 

“Last night, I was walking down to see if I could find the spot where you found me, don't ask me why, and I'm pretty sure I found it because I remember the weird boulder. But this giant tree was right there and I am certain it wasn't there before. It's far too old looking to have grown that much since that day though. It looks like it's about a hundred years old.” 

“Well then it must have been there. Don't forget you had heat stroke, you were completely delirious. You kept saying some man had saved you.” Sarah laughed as if it was the most absurd thing in the world. 

“Some man did save me.” Steve muttered, peering through the curtains cautiously, half expecting to see the underwater face somewhere out there. 

“You also said he had flowers growing from his feet? Think about it, Steve.” 

“No, flowers growing wherever he stepped. Not growing from his feet.” Steve rolled his eyes, letting the curtain fall back into place. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe he grew your tree.” Sarah laughed again, not taking him seriously at all. 

Steve didn't care though. She'd made an extremely valid point that made sense. If a flower could be blooming within seconds of him stepping there, maybe after a decade an entire tree could grow to full size. “Mom, if you're just gonna mock me then I'm going to go.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, you know I mean well.” She said, not sounding at all sorry. “I've got to go and get ready anyway. Going out for lunch with a friend.” 

“All right. Have fun, mom. I'll see you this weekend. Love you.” 

“I love you too, darling. Be safe.” 

Steve ended the call and dropped his phone on the coffee table, sitting down to try and decide what to do today. He was definitely going back to that tree. It was too beautiful not to take advantage of. If he was lucky, he could get a few paintings done over the next few days before he went into town. There was something so unique and beautiful about this tree that Steve just knew he could make his month's worth of money just with paintings of this tree. 

He went about his usual morning routine of breakfast and getting his things together. He usually had his showers in the evening but last night he'd been too freaked out to bother so he had a quick one, cursing himself afterwards for not remembering to open the window and close the door. The cabin was made from a very old wood. It was strong and the outside was protected from the elements but the inside, if it got too wet from steam, mould would start growing faster than was believable. 

Steve remembered one summer when he was eight, they'd arrived to find half the bathroom covered in thick mould, literal mushrooms growing everywhere. His dad had always said that the forest was very healthy and that you could grow just about anything there. But after that, he'd been less happy about it. They'd had to tear out the entire thing, replacing all the wood and tiling it all, putting in proper ventilation. It was the most modern part of the cabin and Steve wanted to keep it that way. He was determined to keep the cabin as original as possible. 

When Steve's bag was packed and he felt awake enough to go outside, he cautiously opened all the curtains. When it was revealed that he was as alone as he always was, Steve pushed aside the small lump of anxiety and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh morning air. It wasn't often that he was out this early and he couldn't figure out why he didn't do it more often. 

There was a soft light bathing the forest, though not reaching the denser areas, and a cool breeze rippling through the trees. The birds were all chirping happily and Steve felt completely at ease. This was his forest to claim and paint. He'd be damned if he didn't. 

Steve's walk back to the tree seemed to take a lot longer than he remembered. He reached the river easily enough but as he walked downstream, he seemed to slow down without realising. There was a change in the air; it felt thicker and more tense. He couldn't figure out what it was that was so different and then it hit him. There were no birds chirping above him. Just the occasional harsh caw of a raven. He'd only seen them once or twice over the last two years, they weren't exactly common. Now though, the ravens seemed to be the only birds making any noise. 

The tree came into sight and Steve was overcome with goosebumps. There was a strange feeling all about him. The air prickled with energy and Steve felt like he was trespassing suddenly. He continued on though, walking up to the tree to start circling it. The trunk was so wide, the roots so large he had to walk away from the tree and around the root just to keep moving around. It was a truly magnificent tree and Steve couldn't wait to get started. 

He decided to start from afar. He walked back a short distance and sat down on the grass, unpacking his easel and his paints to start his work. He started sketching the outlines of everything, adding in the river, the surrounding forest. He stared hard at the grooves in the tree, the lines, the shadows. He wanted to get everything perfect. He was getting lost in it all, forgetting that he was supposed to be painting. He kept drawing, shading everything in, his eyes darting up before returning to the canvas eagerly. He pulled out his charcoal and that was when it got real fun. 

It wasn't until an hour had passed that he finally succumbed to the cramp in his hand. He put down his charcoal pencil and surveyed his work, smiling to himself at the result. He scanned every mark he'd made, making sure it was right. He paused and stared at one spot in particular. His drawing had caught part of the river and the start of the trees on the other side of the river. He'd been working on that section about twenty minutes before hand and looking at it now, it didn't match. He peered closely at it and almost dropped the drawing. In a dark spot of the trees, he'd somehow made the faint outline of a face. 

Steve set it down carefully and stood up, staring hard at the darkness on the other side of the river. In all his life, he'd never actually set foot on that side of the river. When he was a child he'd been too young to swim over and it had never even occurred to him to try. 

Steve hung his camera around his neck and slowly walked back to the tree, climbing up onto the roots and onto the lower hanging branches. He edged his way around and clambered onto the thick branch stretching out over the river, his camera banging against his chest from the movement. The branch was thick enough for him to walk over but he didn't trust himself so he sat down and dragged himself across, warily eyeing the rushing water below. 

He reached the end and slowly stood up, feeling like an idiot. The end of the branch wasn't close enough to the bank for him to get down with ease. He was going to have to jump. He inched forward slightly before leaping off, hitting the ground hard and rolling into the fall with a grunt. He stood back up and looked around slowly. 

The air was a hell of a lot thicker on this side of the river, hotter. The trees had a more sinister look to them and Steve immediately regretted his decisions. For starters, he had no idea how to get back up into the tree. Steve decided he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, metaphorically speaking. He smirked at his own pun and looked into the trees. He couldn't see anyone at all but he'd definitely drawn a face in the darkness. 

The sun was well and truly up now but it somehow didn't make much of a difference to the light on this side. It was messed up and Steve desperately wanted to get back to the safety of the other side of the river. He grabbed his camera and turned it on, not wanting this little adventure to be a complete waste of time. 

He started taking a few shots of the trees. He took one of the oak tree, the darkness of the forest, the view of the sun through the trees. He bent down and got close to a blue wild flower growing on the river bank. He wasn't a photographer. He had no idea what he was doing, but he knew how to get a good enough picture that he could paint from. He managed to angle it so that the sun was behind the flower, casting a halo of golden light around the flower. 

His face was in the dirt and there was a tuft of grass trying desperately to get into his mouth but still he waited, getting the camera to focus on the flower. He took the picture and moved into a crouch, staring at the flower curiously. He recognised it from somewhere but he couldn't figure out how. He didn't even know what type of flower it was. 

“It's called the Myosotis Sylvatica.” 

“Holy fuck!” Steve spun around on his heels and fell backwards onto his ass in shock, his heart racing a mile a minute. He stared up at the man, struggling to string together a proper sentence. 

“I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry.” He said sheepishly, a weird look of hesitance and confidence all over his face. 

“That- that's okay.” Steve stammered out, unable to take his eyes off of the man. For starters, he was soaking wet, topless and had long brown hair that reached his lower back. His muscles were all very defined beneath a never ending tattoo of vines, wrapping around his legs, torso, neck and arms before disappearing into his pants. Small flowers dotted the vines everywhere, little bursts of colour amongst the endless green. He held out a hand to help Steve up, eyeing him nervously when Steve just stared. 

He finally got a hold of himself, cleared his throat, and accepted the guys hand. It was cold and damp but soft as well. The contact sent shivers up Steve's spine as he was pulled to his feet. Not a single bird was chirping, not even a raven, and Steve did not feel safe at all. But this guys eyes were mesmerizing. Steve couldn't look away from those beautiful, pale blue eyes. 

“What's your name?” The man asked softly, keeping his eyes locked with Steve's. 

“Steve.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the river, Steve?” He asked casually, as if it was a normal question to ask. The man was very pale, Steve noticed. Something in him was telling him to run but his body was just locked on the spot, stuck staring into the man's eyes. There was something insanely familiar about him but Steve couldn't place his face. He was hot as hell though. Steve was certain he'd remember a guy that looked this good. 

“Taking photos for me to paint.” Steve sighed, fighting back a smile over how attractive this guy was. 

“Why are you all the way out here?” The man asked, finally breaking eye contact and looking around. “You with anyone?” 

Steve wasn't entirely sure why he did it, but somehow, he felt it necessary to lie. “I'm out here with my brother. He's further up the river.” 

The man eyed Steve up for a moment, as if he sensed that Steve was lying. He glanced behind him before sighing. “You okay? I'm sorry I made you fall.” 

“That's all good. It was hardly a fall.” Steve smiled, glancing at the river rushing next to him. 

“How did you even get over to this side?” 

“I climbed over the branch and jumped down but now I'm not entirely sure how to get back across.” Steve said slowly, looking at his art gear lying in the grass on the other side. It would be just his luck that a bird would shit on his drawing. 

“I can help.” The man said happily, walking towards the large branch. 

Steve watched as he jumped up and caught the end of the thick branch, tugging it back down with him until it was low enough for Steve to climb up onto. Steve hesitated before realising this was his only chance to get back. His anxiety was suddenly kicking in and all he wanted to do was get back to his cabin. 

He scrambled up as the man started to slip, grunting with the effort. Steve knew that in the back of his head he should be wondering how this guy was strong enough to pull the branch down but in that moment, he didn't question it. He just dragged himself over the river as fast as possible. When he reached the other side, he turned to ask the man if he'd been the one to laugh at Steve when he'd fallen over, but the man was gone, the tree trunk swaying ever so slightly. 

Steve stared into the trees for a second, trying to spot the man and failing. Something about the guy was weird. But there was also something enticing about him. Steve was curious. He wanted to know where he had come from, where he'd disappeared to. Clearly there was something of interest on the other side of the river and Steve was determined to find out. 

Steve had gathered up all his shit and gave one last look over the river, hoping he'd see the man wandering or waving. But there was no one. Steve was about to turn away and head back home when he stopped, staring hard at the grass on the other side. From where Steve and the man had been standing while they talked, there were a tonne more wild flowers. 

Steve turned on his heel and rushed off, feeling extremely nervous. As relieving as it was to know that the man he was convinced had rescued him as a child was real, it was a hell of a lot more alarming to consider the possibility that this man wasn't completely human. 

As Steve walked back up along the river, the sounds of the birds slowly came back. He felt as if his ears had been blocked for months and they'd finally popped. Everything was so much clearer suddenly and the feeling made Steve feel even worse. He reached his cabin, locked the door behind him and barricaded himself in his room while he figured out what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the kudos and subs and love <3
> 
> hmu on insta @samoosifer. i would link you to my tumblr but i finally gave up on trying to keep an active blog lmao
> 
> catch u l8r


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am a leaf in the stream of creation. The universe will take me where I need to go so that I can help as many people as possible.”

Steve couldn't sleep. It had been hours since he'd gotten back, it was dark and he was lying in bed with his eyes wide open. He wasn't even the least bit tired. Eventually, around one, he climbed out of bed and made a pot of coffee, sitting on his couch in silence. He held his mug close to him, enjoying the warmth as he sifted through the thoughts that kept popping out at him. 

This guy was most definitely not normal. Steve's most logical option was that he was magic. Simple as that. He'd heard about green witches at one point. It wouldn't be too hard for him to get his head around. He desperately wanted to do some research but there wasn't enough signal out here. He'd have to go into town the next day and use the internet cafe. 

What bothered Steve the most about this guy was the weird calmness and quietness that came with him. Steve couldn't help but notice that whenever he was near the tree, presumably near where this guy lived, it was as if a fog had settled over his mind and he couldn't think clearly. There was definitely something up with that tree. That much he knew for sure. 

Steve sat for another few minutes, empty cup in hand, before jumping into action. He went into his bedroom, pulled on his jeans and a jumper before returning to the kitchen, pouring the rest of his coffee into a travel mug. He swiped up his camera and hung it around his neck, grabbed his torch and was out of there. 

Steve knew he wasn't going to get any sleep until he found out what was going on. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, he just knew he would find it at that tree. It was where he'd been rescued, most likely by this strange man, and it held a lot of meaning for him. Not to mention the amazing oak tree that Steve was going to paint no matter what the circumstances. 

It wasn't cold outside but it definitely wasn't warm and Steve was thankful for his jumper and coffee. He silently made his way through the forest towards the river, turning right once he reached it to head downstream towards the oak. There were a few stars dotting the sky, the moon's light just managing to break through the few clouds in front. The closer Steve got, the more at ease he felt. He was relaxing more, walking with less purpose and more like he was just on a casual stroll. 

“Fuck.” He grunted, pulling himself out of the haze. The tree was up ahead, a dark mass looming in the distance. Steve slowed to a stop and shone his torch on it, feeling chills race up his back. Steve had always felt safe and comfortable being out in the forest when it was dark but this time, something was different. 

“Steve...” 

Steve slowly spun around at his name, trying to find the source of the voice. It seemed to be coming from all around him, floating to him on the breeze. He came to face the tree again and sighed. Whatever he was hoping to find, he wasn't going to find it in the dark. This was pointless and Steve had been stupid to come out here at two in the morning. 

“Steve?” 

Steve froze. That definitely wasn't his imagination. “Hello?” 

“Steve, what the fuck are you doing out here at this time? It's so late.” 

Steve's light finally found him, coming out from behind the big oak tree. He was once again wet, his hair dripping down his chest. The dark made him look a lot more pale, his eyes almost glowing green. “I'm just- I was looking for- something.” 

“You left something here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve as he came closer. 

“No I'm just- I'm lost.” Steve muttered, his head feeling thick and fuzzy. 

“Oh, Steve.” The man laughed. “Come on, I'll help you find your way back.” 

“No, I'm not physically lost I'm just- confused. It's hard to explain.” Steve stammered, eyeing up the man's vines on his chest. His eyes watched one drop of water slide from the man's collarbone and down his chest, over a nipple and down to the waistline of his shorts. 

“Aren't you cold? What the hell are you doing? Have you been swimming?” Steve asked after a dazed minute of staring. 

“I'm fine. Come on, you need to get back to bed. What is that, is that coffee?” The man was suddenly looking at the travel mug in Steve's hand. 

“Uh- yeah. You want some?” 

He stared at it longingly before clearing his throat and shaking his head, his eyes shut tight as if Steve had just told him his mother had died. “We're heading upstream, yes?” 

“Uh- yeah.” 

“What were you looking for?” The man asked quietly. 

“You.” Steve said without thinking. 

“Really? At this time of night?”

Steve's thoughts came into focus again and he blushed, feeling like an idiot. “What's your name?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

The man thought about it for a moment, letting out a deep sigh. “Bucky.”

“Bucky?” 

“Proper name was James Barnes. But I went by Bucky.” He said, sounding incredibly sad. 

“How come you're out here this late?” Steve asked, determined to learn more about Bucky. 

“I was waiting for you.” 

Steve laughed. “Very funny. Do you live in the forest?” 

“In a way.” Bucky said slowly. “I'm assuming you do?” 

“I have a cabin not far ahead.” Steve said happily. 

“Really? You here permanently or on holiday?” Bucky asked casually as they left the side of the river and entered the trees, Steve's torch lighting the faint trace of a path.

“Permanently. I moved here about two years ago.” Steve sighed, a soft low humming entering his ears. 

“Any reason?” 

“I don't wanna talk about it.” Steve mumbled, the humming disappearing as he cleared his throat. 

“Understandable.” Bucky nodded, his hands reaching back to tie up his hair. Or so Steve had thought. He ran his hands through and stopped walking. “I need to go.” 

“Oh?” Steve stopped and looked back at him in confusion.

“You'll get back okay? I'm- I'm late.” Bucky said, backing away in a panic.

“Yeah, I'll be fine. Will you be? You won't get lost? Do you want me to walk back with you?” Steve asked and shook his torch. “I have a flashlight? You don't wanna fall in the river.” 

Bucky hesitated before shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, but you really don't need to worry about me when it comes to this forest. I know it like the back of my hand.” 

“Well, I thought I did too until I almost drowned when I was younger. Don't get cocky.” Steve said matter of factly, taking a step closer to Bucky as he froze and looked at Steve in shock.

“You almost drowned?” 

Steve nodded and walked over to him. “I was fourteen. I had been sunbathing for an hour and had given myself heat stroke. I went swimming to cool off and got carried downstream and pushed under by the rapids.” 

“How'd you get out?”

“I was- I was rescued...” Steve stared at Bucky, the memory coming back to him in a hot flash. On instinct, he looked down at Bucky's feet, shining the light at them, and stumbled backwards suddenly as a flower grew from between his toes, right in front of Steve's eyes. Bucky looked down and quickly moved his foot, crushing the flower. But it was too late. Steve had seen it and he had remembered. 

“Steve-”

“You? It was you, wasn't it?” Steve whispered. “I don't understand. You- you should be older…” 

“I have to go.” 

Before Steve could even take a breath to talk, Bucky had run off, his footsteps fading into the darkness. Steve stared after him, hoping against hope that he'd return and explain. He considered running after Bucky but thought better of it. It was late and Bucky had scared him. Something wasn't right and Steve didn't want to face it in the dark.

Steve turned around and started jogging back to his cabin, locking the door behind him when he'd arrived. He leant against the door, puffing slightly as he stared at the grooves in the floor. He was too worked up to sleep, the coffee not helping at all. Instead, he started packing his bag. Throwing clothes in haphazardly along with art gear and toiletries. He zipped up the bag and went outside, throwing it onto the passenger seat of his car. He went back inside and started picking paintings, carefully placing them in the wooden canvas holder he'd made a year beforehand. When he was certain he had everything, he made another coffee for the road, locked up the cabin, and sped off. 

\--

“Steve? Steve, wake up!” 

Steve opened his eyes and squinted at the sudden sunlight burning his eyes. He looked around and saw his mom looking at him through the car window, shock and concern all over her face. He unlocked the car and got out, pulling her into a hug without an explanation. 

“Steve, is everything okay? How long have you been here? Why are you sleeping in your car? It's seven in the morning.” Sarah asked frantically, pulling back to look up at him. 

“I only got here about two hours ago. Been driving all night.” Steve croaked. “I didn't want to wake you.” 

“You got here at five in the morning?! You silly boy, sweetie, you should have woken me. Come on, come inside. I'll make you some breakfast and then you can get some sleep in an actual bed.” Sarah said, dragging him into his childhood home. 

Steve stepped over the threshold and breathed in deep, smiling at the familiar smell. It felt like it had been years since he'd been home. It had only been a few weeks though. Steve plodded through to the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table, feeling utterly miserable for no particular reason. 

“What would you like for breakfast? Toast? Cereal? Eggs?” 

“Some eggs would be great, thanks mom.” Steve yawned. “I can make it if you want?” 

“Nonsense. Sit. Drink some coffee and tell me what the hell is going on, I wasn't expecting you for two more days.” She said, pulling out pans and plates and cutlery. 

“Yeah, I um… I met someone.” Steve said slowly, not thinking about how it sounded. 

“Really? You met someone?! What's his name?! When did you meet?!” Sarah gushed. 

“Not- not like that, mom. He uh… He lives in the forest and… I don't think he-” 

“Not gay? That's a shame. How did you meet?” 

“No I-” Steve sighed. Maybe he shouldn't be telling her. She was hardly going to believe him. He barely believed it himself. The entire three hour drive he'd been turning it over and over in his head but he couldn't figure it out. He definitely needed to research shit. 

“Well? How'd you meet? Is he a friend still? Does this mean you have someone to talk to more often?” Sarah asked hopefully, the pan sizzling in front of her, the smell of bacon wafting over to Steve and causing hunger pains. 

Steve sighed. He was better off figuring out what was going on before he told his mom. “I was out painting near where he lived. At the oak tree actually.” Steve said slowly. 

“The oak tree?” Sarah glanced at him over her shoulder. 

“The place where I was rescued.” Steve waved a hand as he took a sip of his coffee. 

“Oh, Steve, we've been over this. No one rescued you. You saved yourself. Don't give that credit to someone else.” Sarah said happily, tipping eggs and bacon onto a plate. 

“Mom, I was rescued. I met him. I met- the guy.” Steve said desperately, feeling angry over not being able to explain it properly. 

“What?” Sarah looked at him incredulously, placing his plate in front of him and putting her hands on her hips in that distinctively ‘mom’ way. 

“The guy I met. It's him- his dad.” Steve stammered, figuring it was better to tell her half of the truth. 

“Oh my god. That's incredible.” Sarah shook her head. “Eat your breakfast.” 

Steve took a mouthful and almost moaned. “God I love your eggs.” 

“So, did you thank him? What happened?” She asked, sitting down in across from Steve. 

“Well-”

“Don't talk with your mouth full.” 

Steve swallowed and rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who asked me a question when I had food in my mouth. Anyway, we were all just talking about the forest and stuff and I just happened to mention that I'd almost drowned in the river and yeah. His son looks just like him.” 

“You're gonna have to invite them round for dinner so I can thank him properly for saving my boy.” Sarah said matter of factly, as if she hadn't just said that Steve saved himself five minutes ago. 

“I don't think that can happen.” Steve sighed. “They're- going home in a week.” 

“Oh well. Still, that's amazing that you met him.” Sarah sighed as Steve finished up his breakfast. “You go get some sleep now though. I've got to get ready for work.” 

“That sounds like a good idea. I'll call you later today.” Steve yawned, getting up and taking his plate to the bench. He set it down in the sink before dragging his exhausted body up the stairs and into his old childhood bedroom. The bed was ten inches too small but Steve was far too tired to care. He peeled his clothes off and slid between the blankets, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

*

“Steve, you can't tell anyone about me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, if you do, they'll hunt me down. There's certain people in the world with certain beliefs. One of their beliefs is that I shouldn't exist. I'm inhuman… I should be dead.” 

Steve stared at Bucky curiously, a dragonfly floating past in the sun. The sound of the river floating by, the soft breeze and the calmness that Steve felt made him feel truly relaxed like he'd never been before. He trusted Bucky. There was something terrifying about him but deep down, Steve knew that Bucky wasn't going to hurt him. 

“Steve?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Steve, promise me you won't tell anyone about me.”

“Okay. I promise.” Steve smiled and nodded at Bucky, feeling good about this decision once he saw the relief on Bucky's face. 

“You need to wake up.” 

Steve opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He'd just had the best sleep ever. Parts of his dream were flashing through his mind; the warmth of the sun on his back had felt so real. He sat up and stretched, enjoying the way his bones clicked. He found his phone and checked the time; half past three. He'd slept most of the day away. 

Steve climbed out of bed and stumbled downstairs, opening his mom's fridge to see what food was in there. There wasn't much so he got dressed and pushed aside his anxiety to go out to a cafe. Usually when he visited his mom, he'd spend the majority of the time inside the house. He barely ever left unless it was really necessary.

Steve drove across town to the only internet café there was. His mom didn't have wifi because she just didn't use it. There was a cafe open next door that looked interesting. It hadn’t been there the last time Steve had been home. There was something about it that was pulling Steve in. There was a forest theme going on, plants everywhere with furniture that looked hand carved from tree trunks. A big sign on the front window boasted that everything was organic. 

Steve pushed open the door and was met with the delicious smell of proper coffee and freshly baked muffins. He walked up to the counter, confused as to why there was no one around. There wasn't even anyone behind the counter. He waited for a moment before spotting the bell sitting next to the till. He dinged it and waited patiently, looking around at the artwork on the walls. 

“Afternoon.” 

Steve looked around and smiled at the man who had appeared behind the counter. “Hi.”

“How are you doing today?” 

“Not too bad, thanks. Yourself?” 

“Pretty good, thank you. Are you after anything in particular? Food? Coffee? Both? Neither?” 

“Uh- both please.” Steve sighed. “Can I please get a caramel latte and-” Steve paused to look at the food in the cabinet. “Can I get that chicken wrap please?” 

“Absolutely.” The man nodded. “Fifteen twenty five, thanks.” 

Steve pulled out a twenty and handed it over, slipping all his change into the tip jar before sitting down. He continued to look at all the interesting artwork covering the walls. The man behind the counter came over with a glass of cold water before disappearing behind the counter again. 

Steve was about to pull out his phone when he almost shit himself at the sight of one of his own paintings up on the wall. He stared at it in amazement, standing up and getting closer without realising. It was an old one. He could even remember doing this painting. It was when he'd just moved to the cabin. 

The painting was of a twisted old tree that had died. It was large and without leaves and was amongst a few other trees that were blooming with flowers and fruits. Steve had been fascinated by this one tree that somehow hadn't managed to survive. 

“Are you a fan of art?” The man behind the counter asked, holding Steve's coffee as he came and stood next to him. 

“Uh- yeah. You could say that.” Steve laughed. 

“This is one of my wife's favourite pieces. She's in love with the artist. We've got a few of his in our apartment upstairs.” The man said conversationally. 

“Really?” Steve turned to the man, a wide smile on his face. 

“Yeah. You know of the artist?” 

“I am him.” Steve grinned. He'd always known that most of his paintings were selling due to his art dealer still wanting more, but to see it in someone's own place of business, to hear them say he was someone's favourite artist was truly incredible. 

“You- this is your work?” 

“Steve Rogers, that's me.” Steve nodded. 

“Excuse me a moment.” The man said, sitting Steve's coffee down on his table before rushing out the back. Steve went and sat down as the man returned with a tall red headed woman who looked absolutely star struck. Her hands and arms were covered in jewellery and Steve could spot some tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves. 

“Natasha, this is Steve Rogers.” 

She stared at Steve in wonder, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Holy shit.” 

Steve laughed. “Thank you so much for buying my work. You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

“Sam, I told you. I told you he'd come.” She gasped, falling into the seat opposite Steve. “Flip the sign.” 

Steve was immediately uncomfortable, red flags shooting up. She must have recognised him from the news. He couldn't believe it. “I- I don't-”

“How's the forest?” She asked breathlessly, as if she'd been dying to ask this question forever.

Steve's mind went blank. “Sorry?” 

“Uh- Nat, explain first. Questions later.” Sam said from the front door, locking it and flipping the sign to 'closed'. 

“Right. Sorry. My name is Natasha Romanov I'm what the kids are calling a 'psycho witch'. But I'm really just a holistic green witch.”

“Say what now?” Steve reeled, looking from her husband to her and back again. 

“When Evan died and you were blasted all over the news I knew. I'm so sorry for everything you went through during that time. It's really not fair what the media did to you.” She said sadly, reaching across the table to take his hand. Steve pulled it away though, the mention of Evan's name making him go cold inside. 

“Knew what? Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” He gritted out. 

“The first time I saw your face on the news I knew that you were the next one I was going to help.” 

“Nat and I travel around the country based on her feelings and dreams. We usually stay in each place for about six months to a year. Sometimes longer if needed.” Sam explained, looking like it should have explained everything but Steve was still confused and concerned. 

“Wait- so-” Steve stuttered, not entirely sure what he wanted to say. 

“I don't do spells and curse people if that's what you're wondering.” Nat said slowly, a smirk playing on her face. 

“Right...” 

“I just work with plants a lot and use herbal remedies and the energies of the earth and universe.” 

“So you're not actually magic?” Steve asked stupidly, struggling to wrap his head around the situation that he'd gotten himself into. 

“Well, some consider it magic, others consider it luck, and some people think it's coincidences.” Nat said, looking behind Steve, her eyes glazed over. “Remember that idiot who thought I was the devil, Sam?” 

“Oh my god, don't remind me.” Sam snorted. 

“Okay so the- the holistic thing?” 

“The proper definition is philosophy characterised by the belief that the parts of something are intimately interconnected and explicable only by reference to the whole.” Nat stated, sounding like she'd said it a hundred times before. “I am a leaf in the stream of creation. The universe will take me where I need to go so that I can help as many people as possible.” 

“So the universe told you to help me?” Steve narrowed his eyes at her, hoping like hell that he could leave soon. 

“Exactly. Whatever you're wanting to know, Google cannot help you.” Nat said simply, sitting back in her seat. “So, how's the forest then?” 

“Who said I've been in a forest?” Steve asked slowly. 

“Steve, come on. All of your paintings are of a forest. Either you're travelling to different ones or you're painting different areas of the same one. Also, it's on your wikipedia page. You moved to your family cabin up state to paint.” Nat smiled. 

“I have a wikipedia page?!” Steve blurted out, shocked by this new information. Why the fuck did he have a wikipedia page?

“You don't want to read it. There's- some nasty things said about you. The page itself is for the whole trial and stuff but towards the end it just speculates that you did do it and that you'd moved to your family cabin.” 

“Thanks for telling me that, mom.” Steve grumbled. 

Sam laughed as he walked away, heading around the counter. Steve opened his mouth to ask another question when his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed at the sight of 'mom' flashing at him. 

“Hey, mom. What's up?” 

“Hi sweetheart, where are you? I thought you'd be home.” Sarah asked, a slight urgency in her voice. 

“I came to the internet cafe to check some things. Didn't think to text you, sorry.” Steve explained. 

“Oh right. I thought you came here to see me not to use the internet.”

“Well if you got wifi at home then I'd probably come and visit more often.” Steve smirked. 

“Oh ha ha. Very funny, Stevie. What time will you be home? I'm cooking lasagne.” 

“Uh- I'm not entirely sure I'm just talking to- some old friends.” Steve shrugged, pulling a face at Nat's amused face. 

“Really? Are you okay? Is this a good thing?” Sarah asked, a hint of worry entering her voice. 

“I'm fine, mom. I won't be long. I'll head off soon.” 

“All right. Well, call me if you need me. Just- be careful, okay, Steve? It's been a while but Evan's friends and family still live around here and sometimes when they see me they yell at me. I'd hate to think what they'd do if they saw you again.” 

“Jesus. Okay. I'll see you soon. Love you.” Steve sighed. He ended the call feeling miserable. He had no idea that his mom went through that. 

“Do you need to go?” Nat asked as Sam brought out Steve's wrap. Steve didn't even feel like it anymore. He kept expecting one of them to start laughing and tell him it was all a joke. To accuse him of killing his boyfriend. 

“I don't want to upset you, Steve. I just want to help. There must be a reason why you decided to come home now? You're not due at the art dealer for another week.” Nat said softly. 

“How the hell do you know that?” Steve asked incredulously. 

“I'm not just a fan of your work to get close to you. I actually really love your style and like to know when he'll have more of your work in.” She smiled. “Your work is truly beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Steve mumbled. “Look, this is all a bit much for me and I'd just really like to go home now.”

“Absolutely. Go for it.” Nat smiled warmly as they all stood up. “Come back at any time. Day or night. We'll be here.” 

“Thanks. It was… Interesting meeting you.” Steve half laughed, stepping outside after Sam unlocked the door. 

“Thanks for coming in.” They both stood at the door, watching him as he climbed into his car and drove away. 

“Do you think he's gonna come back? I think you might have scared this one too much. He's very anxious.” 

Natasha just sighed happily as they shut the door. “He'll come back... They always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all dont forget to kudos comment subscribe and all the cliche youtuber lines they use i guess


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha considered him a moment before closing her eyes, slipping a finger into the book and opening it seemingly at random. Steve looked down at the page and was shocked to see that it was all handwritten. Curly golden writing lining every blank space on the page. At the top of the page, in beautiful calligraphy, was the word 'Rusalka'.

Steve pulled into his mom's driveway and turned off the car. Instead of getting out, he sat there, his hands still on the steering wheel. His eyes were unfocused and his mind was blank. His chest was tight, full of anxiety and fear and sadness. It was overwhelming and Steve had no idea how to pull himself out of his stupor. 

“Steve? Come inside, sweetheart.” 

Steve slowly looked around and saw his mom smiling at him sadly outside his car door. He nodded, undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, following her into the house silently. As soon as he stepped over the threshold he was met with the delicious smell of his mom's lasagna, the warmth of his family home making him feel better almost instantly. 

“How was your day then? What time did you get up?” Sarah asked as she started dishing up their dinner. 

“Half past three.” Steve said sheepishly. 

“Steven Rogers.” His mom laughed. “I thought I raised you better.” 

“I'm a grown man that was driving all night. You've got no jurisdiction over me.” Steve snorted. 

“Uh huh. Go wash your hands before dinner.” 

“All right.” Steve rolled his eyes, doing as she said instantly. 

Their dinner that night was quiet. Sarah could tell something was bothering Steve but he didn't feel like talking so he didn't bother saying anything and she didn't ask. Steve's mom always had a way of making him feel better without even talking. It was usually through food and love. They chatted about nothing in particular, skirting around the subject dangerously. In the end, they both went to bed without saying anything. 

Steve's mom always fell asleep really fast but Steve could never go to sleep instantly. He'd always lie in bed for a while, trying to make himself go to sleep. He was usually successful after about a half hour but it didn't work this time. He lay in bed for hours, staring at the old glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. When it hit three in the morning, he got up. 

He went downstairs and made himself a cup of tea, hoping it would help him. He knew what he wanted to do though. He was itching to do it. It had been too long since he'd last done it. Almost a whole year. The only reason he kept putting it off was because the last time he'd tried, it had ended in an argument. Steve figured he'd be safe to do it in the middle of the night though. 

The drive to the cemetery was a short one across town. He'd made the drive too many times and barely had to think about where he was going until suddenly he was there. He got out of the car and walked through the gravestones, winding his way to his father's grave. When he found him, he sat down and stared at the stone in silence. 

Whenever he made these visits, he never really said anything. At least not to his dad. He'd just sit with him for a while, occasionally telling him something of importance. When he'd spent enough time, he got up and made his way back to the path, walking further into the cemetery. 

Evan's grave always had more flowers than his dad's. Evan had a lot more family still living in the town. His dad only had him and his mom. Evan's stone was covered in flowers and small plants, his stone was almost hidden from sight. But Steve knew where it was. He couldn't forget it. 

“Hey...” Steve mumbled, sitting down in front of the grave stone. “Sorry it's taken me so long to come back. I've been… I've been too chicken shit after your sister yelled at me to fuck off last time.” Steve snorted. 

“I miss you, Ev. Too much.” Steve sighed, resting his head in his hand as he picked at the grass absentmindedly. “I can't believe it's been this long and I still miss you… Paintings going well. I'm selling a lot. Painting a lot. I actually met a fan.” 

“She's uh… She's odd, to say the least. She has this air about her like she knows more than she's letting on. More than she should know. She brought you up which was a shock. I wasn't expecting a total stranger to say your name. My mom, I'm always prepared for her to drop your name but… Evan, I feel lost. I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen. Waiting for my life to move on but… I don't know what I'm supposed to move on to. I thought I was happy painting, living alone… Apparently I'm not. But I don't know how to get out of it. 

“I can't move back here. Not after what happened. It was the biggest thing to happen in this town and no one seems to want to forget it very fast. I don't know… Maybe I should move to France like we talked about. Do some painting there. Get away from everything. Mom would kill me if I did that.” Steve smiled. “I couldn't do that to her…”

“I met someone… He's… Not right. I can't explain it. He seems nice enough and really good looking. He's got these funky vine tattoos all over his body. They suit him though… This sounds ridiculous but I'm ninety percent certain that he's the guy that saved me when I almost drowned… It's messed up because this guy should be old now. Not look exactly the same and have flowers growing beneath his feet…”

Steve shifted into a more comfortable position and looked around. It should have been scary. Especially with fall slowly making its way in. It was dark and cold; silent like the dead beneath Steve. “Part of me… Feels like… Like I've been waiting for him… And I know you would want me to move on and all that cliché shit, but it doesn't change how guilty I feel at the thought of being with someone else. I just… I don't know…” 

Steve stared at Evan's name on the stone, tears suddenly streaming down his face. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and curled up into a ball, the soft grass catching his tears. He spread his hand out on the ground and slowly felt himself fall asleep, not bothering to stop it from happening so he could go home. 

\--

“Evan?!” Steve whirled around, peering desperately through the flames for any sign of him. He could barely feel the flames licking at his legs and arms, the need to find Evan was too consuming. 

“Steve?!” Came a call, barely audible above the roar of the fire. 

Steve struggled his way towards the kitchen door, coughing into his blackened sleeve. He kicked at the door until it broke away, the hinges half burnt off already. He spotted Evan straight away, trapped beneath the fallen fridge. A wooden beam had fallen through the roof, pinning Evan and the fridge down. All the photos of Steve and Evan were turning to flames, memories being destroyed. None of that would matter though if Steve could save Evan. 

“Steve! Get out! Please! What are you doing?!” Evan cried out at the sight of him. 

“No, I'm not leaving you.” Steve croaked, attempting to lift the beam, the fire jumping onto his sleeves in an instant. He heard a hissing noise and looked over to where it was coming from. The gas line. Any second now it was going to blow, taking the whole kitchen with it.

“Steve, you fucking idiot! Just go!” 

“Steve.”

Steve spun around and spotted her standing in the broken doorway of the kitchen, her white dress untouched by the flames or smoke. Her long red hair flowed into the fire, as if the fire was coming from her. Speaking calmly over the flames, she gave Steve chills despite the blazing heat. 

“You are two souls in separate streams of life. His has reached the ocean but yours has much further to go.”

Steve opened his mouth but no words came out as he stared at her in confusion. She wasn't looking at him though. She was looking sadly at Evan's face. Steve returned his gaze to Evan, panic swallowing him again. Suddenly, the sound only just managing to reach his ears, a siren sounded out. 

“Evan, just stay here. I'm going to go get proper help.” Steve said desperately. 

“I can't exactly go anywhere.” Evan joked. 

Steve couldn't believe him. “You know what I mean asshole. Stay with me. Don't- Do- I'll be back as soon as possible.” 

Steve stood up and looked out to the living room, Natasha nowhere to be seen. There was no way he was going back the way he came. He turned around and didn't stop to think about it, he just dove through the kitchen window. The glass shattered around him, the land winded him, and his burns became even more obvious as the cool air reached unburned parts of his body. Steve didn't care about any of that though. He staggered to his feet and hobbled down the side of the house, Natasha watching from one of the windows like a ghost, out onto the street where the fire truck was already starting to spray the house with water. 

“Oh my god! I need a medic!” A woman yelled at the sight of Steve. 

“There's- there's someone still in there!” Steve spluttered, pushing away the paramedic that had come rushing to his aid. 

“You need medical attention. Let the firefighters do their-” An explosion rent the night apart, blasting everyone on the property off of their feet, the windows of the house shattering just like Steve's heart. 

“EVAN!” Steve bellowed, everything within him crumbling into pieces. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. All he could focus on was the incessant need to get to Evan. He'd be okay if he could just get to him. Steve was barely aware of people holding him back, could only watch as his entire world was burnt to a crisp. 

“No. No. Please, no.” Steve groaned. 

“Steve, honey, it's okay.” 

“No, he's- he's still inside. We have to get him.” 

“Steve, darling. Wake up, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm here.” 

Steve opened his eyes, tears leaking out of them as he struggled to focus on where he was and what was happening. He could still feel the burning on his arms and legs, could still feel the gut wrenching heartache at the fact that Evan was still inside. 

“Ev- mom?” Steve looked up into her eyes, realisation coming to him at the sight of her sad pitying look. 

“I know, sweetie.” She sighed, sitting down on the grass next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. Steve let himself be held, let himself cry until he felt he could cry no more. 

“I'm sorry, mom.” He mumbled after a while. 

“That's okay. Come on. Let's go home and get some breakfast in you. I'll stay home from work and we can spend the day together.” She said softly, getting up and holding her hand out to him. Steve took it and got to his feet, fighting the urge to make sure he wasn't still on fire. 

The drive home was silent. Steve couldn't bring himself to talk about anything and his mom didn't seem to know what to say. She hadn't had to deal with Steve being like that for two years. He knew he should apologise. She was taking the day off of work for him, had probably driven around everywhere trying to figure out where he'd be. 

They got home and Steve went straight up to his room, Sarah close on his heels. Steve was too fast for her though, he managed to shut his door before she'd reached the top of the stairs. He started pacing, waiting for the inevitable knock but it didn't come. So he sat down, pulled his shirt off and his pants off and stared miserably at the scars that stretched up and down. The mottled skin, the pale lines from skin grafts… He hated all of it. 

“Steve?” 

“Mom, please. I just want-”

“I don't care what you want, Steve.” She said sternly, opening the door as she did so. “I want to know why you've been telling me lies.” 

“What?” Steve asked incredulously, looking at her in confusion. 

“We need to talk. I thought you said you were doing better. That the nightmares had stopped. What's going on?” She asked, sitting down next to him. 

“I don't know, mom. I don't choose when to have them. It's just- been a weird couple of weeks. I think I'm stressed out or something.” Steve mumbled. 

Sarah sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “You should put your comfiest pyjamas on and then we can bring our blankets downstairs and camp out in front of the TV. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds good. But I think- I think I wanna go home tonight. Is that okay?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“That's fine, honey.” 

“I need to go see someone later this afternoon though.” Steve informed her, the decision forming itself in his head. 

“I'll go cook breakfast.” 

*

“Steve, this is beautiful.” Sarah exclaimed, holding the large canvas in wonder. “You shouldn't have.” 

“But I did. Now put it in the kitchen to cover that crack in the wall you're always moaning about.” Steve smiled. 

She put the painting down in the doorway behind her before pulling Steve into a hug, standing on her tiptoes. “You drive safe, okay? Call me as soon as you get home.” 

“Will do, mom.” Steve sighed into her hair, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. “Take care of yourself. I love you.” 

“Love you too, honey.” She said, placing a kiss on his cheek and letting go of him. 

Steve turned and walked down the pathway to his car, unlocking it and waving at his mom before getting in the car. He did his best to look normal as he started the car up and drove away, tooting the horn as he did so. But instead of taking the route out of town that he should have, he drove the four blocks to his old house. To The House. 

He pulled over in front of the house and stared up at it. Or what it used to be. Steve knew he should tear the house down, sell the land, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to make that last step. He found himself getting out of the car, walking slowly up the overgrown footpath. 

He stepped over the charred threshold, looking around in wonder at what two years of nature could do. Ivy was growing up the sides of the house that still stood, some weeds even growing inside. Parts of the house were untouched, blackened by ash and smoke but otherwise unharmed. He'd never properly been through the remains, being too busy defending his love for Evan right after the fire before moving out to his cabin. 

He made his way to the kitchen, or what remained of it. The explosion had taken most of it out, leaving behind debris and broken furniture. Steve stared at what was left of the beam. They'd had to cut it into pieces to get it out of the way. The fridge was standing upright again, no longer white and covered in photos. 

Steve felt like he had been standing there for hours but only a few minutes passed before his dream suddenly came back to him. The nightmares weren't as frequent these days but the most recent had left Steve feeling shaken. Something about what that Natasha woman had said. 

Steve turned around at the sound of a footstep creaking over the debris. He was shocked to see Evan's older sister, Emily, standing in the living room, sadness covering her face. She looked at Steve and smiled sympathetically. 

"Uh- sorry I was just-"

"Don't apologise." She said softly, looking around in pain. "It is technically your house." 

"Not really a house anymore though." Steve muttered, looking down at the floor uncomfortably, confused as to why she wasn’t yelling at him like last time. 

"True." Emily laughed slightly. "Can I talk to you?" 

"Oh, yeah, sure. But- let's go out the front. I don't- I can't-"

"It's okay. I understand." She nodded, giving him a watery smile. 

Steve took one step forward and stopped as he noticed something sticking out from a piece of wood. He bent down and picked it up, dusting off the soot. He smiled down, tears forming in his eyes as he took in the slightly distorted photo of Evan's birthday party. His entire family was there along with Steve and his mom. 

"What's that?" Emily asked, walking over to him. 

In answer, he pulled the photo out of the frame and handed it to her. "At least one photo survived."

"Oh my god... I remember this photo being taken." She grinned. "He was in such a bad mood." 

"Who was it that managed to cheer him up?" Steve wondered, moving closer to look at the photo again. 

"Uh- it was- thingy- you know- Stark. Stupid goatee." 

"Tony!" Steve laughed. 

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Wow. That was three years ago... Here." 

Steve shook his head as she tried to give the photo back to him. "No. You keep it. Take it home to your mom. Maybe she'll start coming around to the idea of not giving my mom shit." 

"Thank you, Steve." Emily said quietly as they finally made their way out onto the footpath. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." 

"Oh?" 

"I heard you were in town and I- I wanted to apologise for- all the shit our family has given you and your mom since it happened." 

"It's okay." Steve said out of habit, realising how stupid a thing that was to say.

"No. It's not. We treated you like shit. We lost a family member but so did you. We turned our backs on you in a second and didn't take the time to talk to you at all. You lost our entire family when you probably needed us most and... It was a shitty shitty thing to do." 

"It was a shitty time so... You guys were grieving." Steve shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. 

"I'm going to get the others to leave your mom alone. I'll get them to see some sense." She said firmly. 

"That would be amazing." Steve admitted, scratching the back of his neck. 

Emily flicked her long brown hair out of her face and pulled her sunglasses on. "How much longer are you in town for? Why don't you come around for dinner?" 

Steve had absolutely no desire to go to dinner in Evan's old family home where there were so many memories he hadn't thought about since it had happened. He was almost overcome with relief that he was leaving. "I'm actually about to head home now. I just wanted to stop here for a moment and I need to make a stop at a cafe and see a- friend." 

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, let me know when you're next in town. The two of us could at least grab a coffee." 

"That'd be nice." Steve smiled.

"It was good to see you, Steve." 

"Yeah, you too." He nodded, reluctantly accepting her hug. 

They parted ways, Steve pretending to be on his phone while he waited for her to leave. When she was completely out of sight, he turned his car on and made the journey back to the organic cafe.

\--

“I did something bad.” 

Sam sighed deeply, counting to three before turning around from the chopping board to look at Natasha. “What did you do?” 

“I may have woken up before you and gone into his dream...” Nat said slowly, drawing patterns in the flour on the bench, avoiding Sam's eyes. 

“Really? Come on, we talked about that.” Sam rolled his eyes. “We talked about him. You saw the man, he's touchy as all get up. Do you not remember the look on his face when you said Evan's name?” 

“I know! I know! But he was at his grave last night and he fell asleep and I just- couldn't help myself.” Nat shrugged. “He was feeling torment so I- I made it a bit clearer for him.” 

“Made what clearer?” 

“He keeps looking back but he needs to focus on the path in front of him. Two streams are about to meet, or they already have, and if he's not looking ahead, he's going to be pushed under the current.” Nat said matter of factly, standing up and actually doing her work. 

Sam hated when she got like this. He loved her, and he was always going to support her no matter what, but sometimes he wished she had a friend that she could talk to about all her holistic witchery. He didn't fully understand it in general, let alone when she started being vague. 

“Right. Well, don't come crying to me if he shows up here today pissed at you.” 

“How can he be pissed at me? He has no idea of my skills. He only met me yesterday and I definitely spooked him so-”

“That's one word for it.” Sam snorted. 

“So I will have been playing in the back of his head whether he knew or not.” Nat said, kneading the dough slowly. 

“We'll see.” Sam shook his head, knowing fully well that Steve Rogers wasn't someone you could fool. Sam was proved right a few hours later when he was pre-cutting some vegetables and the bell for the cafe rang out. He put down his knife and grabbed a tea towel, wiping his hands as he went out the front. Low and behold, Steve was standing there looking pissed off but also nervous. Sam could feel it all radiating off of him. He took one look at Steve before turning back around. 

“Natasha! Someone here for you!” 

“Thanks.” Steve muttered. 

Sam nodded in acknowledgement before locking the door to the cafe. The last thing they needed was a customer walking in when Nat was in full flow. He sat down at a table and pulled out his phone as Natasha walked in with a smile on her face. 

“Hey, Steve. What can I do for you?” 

“Why the fuck were you in my dream last night? What the fuck did you mean? How the hell did you even fucking do it?” Steve yelled, getting straight to the point. 

“Steve, I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talk-”

“Don't play dumb. You said you were a holistic green witch. You did something.” Steve glared at her. 

“Wow, you're more open minded than I thought.” Nat smirked, sitting down and gesturing for Steve to join her. 

Steve considered her for a moment before sitting down opposite her, laying his hands flat on the table. “You're not my first encounter with- someone out of the ordinary.” 

Natasha's eyes widened. “Pray, do tell. I love hearing the witchy gossip.” 

“He's not a witch he's- look, this isn't why I'm here.” Steve shook his head. “Tell me everything you know. Explain.” 

“Steve, I only pretend to know more than I do. A lot of it is just intuition. Just- I have a little help from- potions, if you will.” 

“Right… So how did you get inside my dream then? And what did you mean when you said that- we're- we're two souls in sep-”

“Separate streams of life.” Natasha nodded, closing her eyes. “I'm not about to reveal the secrets of my trade, Steve. But I meant what I said. Your soul has been joined with another for longer than you realise.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Steve asked her incredulously. 

Natasha ignored him. “Steve, why did you come here?” 

“To ask you why you were in my dream.” 

“No, why have you come home. What's the real reason for this visit?” She asked patiently. “Sam, could you get us some tea?” 

“Sure thing, babe.” Sam nodded, disappearing around the counter. 

“To- to see my mom.” Steve said defensively, feeling like she was judging him. 

“We both know that's not the real reason, Steve. This is going to go a lot easier if we don't lie to each other.” She smiled warmly. 

“I- I was scared.” Steve stammered, only just really admitting it to himself. 

“What were you scared of…? Or who?” 

“He- there's something not right about him.” Steve closed his eyes, struggling to get an explanation out. “It's gonna sound stupid but he- he makes things grow.” 

“Steve, I don't need to know about your sex life.” She grinned. 

“I'm not-” Steve shut his mouth as Nat started laughing her head off, an infectious sound that managed to make Steve smile. “When I was younger, I almost drowned in the river near my house. Someone saved me though. I only caught a glimpse of him as he walked away. I know it sounds crazy but he had flowers growing beneath his feet with every step he took and I just-” 

“Can I stop you there just for one minute?” Nat interrupted, holding her finger up. 

“Sure.” Steve shrugged, sitting back in his chair, feeling like he was going insane. Nat got up and went out the back, leaving Steve to his thoughts. He looked up at the wall and smiled at the sight of his painting. If Natasha ended up helping him, he was gonna paint her something. As a gift. 

“You really are an incredible painter, you know.” Sam said, setting down what looked like a gross herbal tea in front of him and sitting down. 

“Thank you.” Steve mumbled, dropping his eyes to his cup. He wasn’t usually a herbal tea person but he didn’t want to be rude so he picked it up and drank some, enjoying the surprising warmth and happiness that came over him. It tasted far better than he was expecting.

“Okay.” Nat said loudly, dropping back down into her seat as she dropped a large heavy book onto the table. It was bound in brown leather and it looked incredibly old. She ran her fingers over it protectively and looked at Steve. “Tell me about this boy of yours.” 

“He's not my boy.” Steve said without thinking. “Okay, he has vine tattoos all over his body. Like, all over. And he's always wet, like he's just been for a swim.” 

Nat nodded, closing her eyes. “Tell me about the flowers.” 

“They just- they seem to grow wherever his feet step. I don't remember almost drowning that much, but I remember what happened afterwards. He left flowers popping up in his wake. When my parents found me, they took me back to the cabin but I specifically remember seeing this boulder with a weird face in it...” 

“What kind of flower was it?” Sam asked quietly, staring into his tea like it held the abyss. 

“Absolutely no idea.” 

“Right. Go on.” 

“Well, the other day, I walked down the river and found that boulder because I was trying to find where it happened. So… I found it and… There's a tree there now. Just a few feet down from where I was saved. A huge giant oak tree, about a hundred years old.” 

“Right.” Nat nodded, her eyes still closed, her hands wrapped tightly around her coffee. 

“It wasn't there when I was younger.” Steve let the statement hang out, feeling like he was getting something off of his chest. He couldn't talk to his mom about this stuff. She already didn't believe him about the flowers growing beneath his feet. 

“Interesting.” Nat breathed, finally opening her eyes to fix Steve was an intense glare, her eyes shining with curiosity and wonder, but her face completely impossible to read. 

“I don't understand.” Sam said, looking between the two of them. 

“I looked it up and an oak tree takes over a hundred years to reach its full size. This thing must have grown in about fifteen years.” Steve said, closing his eyes as he tried to make sense of it. 

“What happened when you found it?” Nat asked quietly.

“I- I felt really relaxed. Kinda sleepy. It- it was like there was music playing. I- In my head. Or something.” Steve shook his head, feeling stupid for the whole ordeal. 

Natasha considered him a moment before closing her eyes, slipping a finger into the book and opening it seemingly at random. Steve looked down at the page and was shocked to see that it was all handwritten. Curly golden writing lining every blank space on the page. At the top of the page, in beautiful calligraphy, was the word 'Rusalka'. 

Nat opened her eyes and looked down at the page, muttering incoherently to herself. It almost sounded like she was speaking in another language. Steve waited patiently as she flipped the page over, scanning her writing. Steve spotted a drawing of a woman with long flowing hair, lying on the branch of a tree, beckoning to the viewer. 

“Okay, so, our best bet is a rusalka which is a water nymph.” She said, looking at Steve like he should know what that was. 

“Right…”

She let out a short breath. “It’s a water spirit born out of a violent death. They are very similar to sirens.” She explained, looking for confirmation that Steve understood what she was talking about, which he didn’t. Like a dangerous mermaid? They lure men and children to the water with melodies and songs before drowning them. Now, some lore suggests that they eat the children afterwards but rusalki weren't actually considered evil until the 19th century. They come out in the spring and summer and are said to bring fertility with them which would explain your flowers and tree. Pagan Slavic tribes made the connection and celebrated them. 

Steve stared at her, struggling to take it all in. The one thing that was sticking out in his mind was a horrible thought. “So- if he is a- a rusalka… He died?” 

“Not necessarily. Most of the lore suggests that rusalki were female spirits that drowned or committed suicide during unhappy marriages. Whether they're murdered or they take their own life, they must live out their designated time on earth as rusalki.” Nat turned a page and smiled slightly. 

“Why are you smiling?” 

“Memories… Look, the fact that he's male suggests he isn't a rusalka. He may be more of a variation. I need you to find out more about him. But Steve, he is most definitely dangerous. Whatever he is, he isn't safe… You’re not safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter so far my dudes how great is that? 
> 
> valdiate me and give me compliments on my below average writing please and thank


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone started humming, a soft melody that seemed to seep into their heads, clear their minds, relax the tension in the air. It wasn't as cold anymore and the boys didn't feel as scared as they had been just seconds before.

Birkdale. A small conservative town on the edge of a huge forest in Vermont; known for its stunning scenery and delicious taffy. A thick fog had settled over the town during the night, making vision almost impossible. Residents were going to be waking up with stunning views of the sun rising through the mist, melting the frost and warming the day. It was going to be a fine Sunday morning and two young boys were sneaking out on a dare.

They rode their bikes off towards the forest, neither of them bothered by the darkness that blanketed the valley. The younger of the two, Adam, was nervous about being out before the sun was even close to rising but his best friend, Daniel, had dared him to go with him into the forest to the murderer's cabin in the woods. 

He pedalled as fast as he could, following Daniel up the road before they turned onto the hidden lane, invisible unless you knew where it was. The boys had always been told to stay out of the forest. It was a well known story throughout the town that the forest was haunted by the spirit of a young man that had drowned in the river and that the only living person that ever went in there was the crazy man that had burned his boyfriend alive. 

Years before the ‘Boyfriend Burner’, as the town had dubbed him, had shown up, men had gone missing in the forest. Sometimes on a dare, sometimes to prove they were brave, to show that they didn’t believe in silly ghost stories. Whatever the reason they went in, they never came back out. 

"Hey! Wait up!" Adam called as Daniel was swallowed by the darkness. 

"You scared?" He called, his laughter echoing around them. Not even the birds were awake. 

"No way!" Adam shouted, pedalling faster and managing to catch up with Daniel. "Do you even know the way?" 

"It's just up here." He panted. 

They rode for another few minutes before the lane opened up and the shadow of a cabin loomed out at them. When they skidded to a stop a few metres away, a security light clicked on, momentarily blinding them. They got off their bikes and let them drop to the ground, entranced by the dark cabin windows, a weird smell and the dead silence in the air. 

"Go look through the window." Daniel whispered, walking through the open gate. 

"You look through it." Adam replied, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. He'd always heard stories of the man that lived here but he had never believed them to be true. 

"Let's both go look." Daniel conceded, walking slowly up the stone path, Adam following close behind. They reached the window and pressed their faces up against it, staring inside. The security light switched off, encasing them in darkness once more. 

"Let's go back." Adam pleaded. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed a light shining through the trees, the sound of a car reaching them a second later. "Someone's coming!" 

Both of them stood there, frozen in shock as the car got closer, triggering the security light and exposing them to the driver. The car stopped suddenly, almost running over their bikes. Adam and Daniel moved away from the window and into the middle of the front garden, watching nervously. The man got out of the car and stared at the two boys, anger flitting over his face. He looked from the boys to their bikes to his windows before slamming the car door shut. 

"What the fuck are you doing here? It's four in the morning? What the hell is going on? Who are you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at them suspiciously. 

"Are you the guy that murdered his boyfriend?" Daniel demanded, taking a defiant step forward. 

"Excuse me? What- that- I didn't-"

"Is it true you burned him alive?" Adam asked bravely, wanting to know the truth. 

"Can you please just get off my property and go home? I have been driving all night and I just want to sleep." He groaned, locking his car before walking through the gate. The two boys stepped back out of the way, neither of them wanting to be within grabbing distance. 

"Why did you kill him?" Daniel asked innocently as if he was asking about the weather. 

"Get the hell off my property or you'll regret it." The man stated angrily, turning his back on them to unlock his door. 

"What, you gonna kill us like you killed him?" Daniel laughed. 

He turned around to look at them, frustration and tiredness written on his face. "I didn't fucking kill him. Will you please just go?" 

"If you didn't kill him, who did?" Adam yelled, shuffling backwards slightly. 

"No one did! It was a fucking accident!" The man shouted, glaring at the two boys. 

"A likely story." Daniel snorted. 

"Will you just fuck off and let me sleep?!" 

"Not until you tell us the truth!" Daniel replied as the security light switched off again. He was about to move into the lane to set off the light again when he noticed a greenish light coming through the trees. 

"Daniel, can we please go now?" Adam asked quietly as the light got closer. 

Someone started humming, a soft melody that seemed to seep into their heads, clear their minds, relax the tension in the air. It wasn't as cold anymore and the boys didn't feel as scared as they had been just seconds before. 

"Who's there?" The man called out of the darkness, the sound of his keys jingling loudly as he unlocked the door. 

"He asked you to leave." A voice echoed coldly through the trees, sounding like it was being said underwater. 

Everyone was frozen in place as the light got bigger and closer, a figure becoming discernable. The light began stretching out like thick ropes from the centre of the creature. The more they grew, the more light was shed on the thing creating them. His face was sunken in and hollow, his eye sockets dead and rotting. His skin seemed to be falling from his body, revealing blackened flesh and bones. 

Big beautiful rose bushes started growing around him, growing higher than he was, blooming into full flowers before they suddenly started dying right before their eyes, wilting and turning black. The leaves and petals dropped off, leaving nothing living behind, just dead and twisted stalks covered in thorns, sharp and dangerous looking. Thistles and weeds grew up through the bare rose bush, filling the space as the creature seemed to rise with the plants.

He towered over them, terrifying and bigger than life. His eyes seemed to look through them as he commanded the vines that grew from his body. They stretched out towards Adam and Daniel, like snakes, and this... thing was the charmer. He tilted his head to the side, like he was sizing them up to eat, and the vines jerked sharply to match, as if they were part of a hive mind. The boys were beginning to regret every decision that had led them to this point. 

"LEAVE!" The creature roared. His voice echoed throughout the forest, unnatural and harsh, the kind of voice that made your skin crawl. The woods were suddenly alive; wind roared through the trees, whipping their clothes about them, birds took off in flight, screeching loudly at the disruption. The creatures hold on the boys seemed to disappear, their knees buckled and they fell to the ground. They struggled to their feet and ran to their bikes, hopping on and racing away as fast as they could pedal.

Steve was left standing on his doorstep, key half in the lock, his mouth hanging open in shock. He stared as Bucky continued to glow, waiting for something to happen. Steve could barely process what the hell he was looking at. The longer he stared, the worse it seemed. Even as Bucky sunk back to the ground, the vines receding, the light fading. A minute later he was back to normal. His skin was all there, his face was plump and he wasn’t glowing. 

He looked exhausted though. He was hunched over and panting slightly. He slowly lifted his head and looked at Steve nervously, uncertain of how Steve was going to react. It took him a minute but Steve finally found his voice, his hand dropping from the door handle as he stumbled backwards slightly. 

“What the fuck, Bucky?” Steve croaked, his mind still reeling from what he had just seen. 

“I- I- You- Those kids were-” 

Before Steve could do anything, Bucky had run off, leaving nothing but the dead rose bush and weeds planted in the driveway. Steve stared at them, wondering whether they were real or not. He hesitantly walked over to them, the smell of death getting stronger the closer he got. It wasn’t the smell of dead plants though. Three words came to Steve as he stared at the plants, his fingers stretched out to touch but not actually touching them.

Bucky’s true form.

Steve had no idea why these words came to him, if they were true or just complete nonsense but whatever the case, they scared the shit out of him so he turned around and went inside. He locked the door behind him, made sure all the curtains were shut before shutting himself in his room. He picked up his baseball bat and sat on his bed, staring at the wooden floor in shock. He tried to organise his thoughts but Natasha’s words kept echoing through his head, over and over, making him feel worse and worse. 

‘He’s not safe. You’re not safe.’

Steve shook his head, a firm belief that Bucky wasn’t going to hurt him inserting itself into his head. Bucky had saved him. Bucky had saved his life when he was younger. If he wanted to hurt him or wanted him out of the way, he wouldn’t have done that. 

Steve took in a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly as he tried to figure out what to do. In the end, he decided to do what he always did when he had no idea what was going on. He took a sleeping pill and went to bed, making it tomorrow’s problem. He kept the bat in bed with him as he slowly drifted off, dreaming of Evan’s sister screaming as Bucky’s rotting face cried, his tears the start of the river that had come so close to taking Steve’s life once before.

\--

“You’re an idiot. You are such an idiot. Why would you do that? Why, after all these years, haven't you gained any self control? So stupid!” 

Bucky paced around and around the empty living room, dust and dead leaves crunching beneath his feet with every step. He walked over to the front window and peered out through the gap in the ivy he’d made. He half expected to see Steve there, demanding an explanation. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening. He had never experienced anything like it before and it terrified him. 

Never before had anyone brought that anger out in him. The only times he ever let his true form take over was when he had been about to kill. Even then, it had never been as intense or powerful as that. He’d never done it to protect someone either. Especially not someone he felt such a strong pull towards. Bucky let out a groan and stopped pacing, leaning against the cold and empty fireplace. He stared into it, willing there to be a fire, willing there to be some kind of life in the place he had once spent weeks of his summer vacations in. Living.

It wasn’t fair. 

Bucky didn’t often think about his family. He wasn’t even ashamed to realise that he had forgotten about most of them. But he could never forget his mom. She was always with him in his heart. His cold, dead, rotting heart. Bucky was suddenly so overcome with grief over his predicament, so frustrated and upset. He stormed outside, slamming the front door of the cabin behind him so hard that the last pane of the window smashed, the little pieces joining the others on the ground from every other time he’d lost his temper. 

Bucky stormed through the trees, swiping angrily at every branch that got in his way. He knew he needed to get himself under control. If he looked back, he’d see a trail of death, wilted flowers, brown and black leaves everywhere. The cabin was his one connection to his family and he didn’t want the path ruined with his anger. He’d deal with it later.

Bucky reached the river finally and let himself fall in, the water cascading over him and pushing him downwards to the riverbed where he lay. It was still dark and he couldn’t see much, only the occasional fish flitting by. He closed his eyes and let the emptiness take over, sinking into the darkness where there was no hope of return.

_Bucky couldn't breathe. He tried to suck in some air but all he got was water. His lungs were burning in protest, his head felt like it was going to explode and his eyesight was worse than ever. He caught a blurry glimpse of the trees overhead before he was pushed back under. He was terrified and knew what was about to happen, knew there was no way to stop it, but underneath it all, he was annoyed. It was typical that this was how it was happening. After everyone told him not to swim in the river. After everyone told him to stay out of it, to stay safe. To stay alive._

_Everyone was going to be upset. But his brother was going to laugh. Of course, he'd be devastated, but in their grieving he was going to make a joke about saying 'I told you so.' to someone. Maybe in front of their mom who would scold him with a sad laugh. Or maybe she'd just cry. Bucky hated it when she cried. Now he'd gone and given her a reason to cry herself to sleep for the next month._

_As his life slipped away from him, his mind cleared. Thoughts of his family disappeared. Thoughts of his home, his friends, his life, it all just went away as if it had never existed in the first place. Bucky was nothing and he was everything all at once. He felt no pain, only peace. Yet he was still conscious. That, he was aware of. The fact that he could feel himself floating meant he still had a body. He was certain of that._

_He could feel rocks scraping him, reeds brushing up against him. He must be at the bottom of the river. The thought came to him through the darkness, a small beacon of light, a hint as to what was happening to Bucky. He tried to move and found that he had control over his body. His fingers touched the soft riverbed, sinking into the mud._

_Suddenly there was a burning sensation in his stomach. His eyes flew open onto a murky darkness and he tried to yell out but his mouth was filled with water once again. The pain was spreading, like lightning, following his veins all over his body. He couldn't see anything but he knew his eyes were open. He had to get out of the water. Maybe it would end the agony…_

_He pushed up from the riverbed and felt himself going up, his head broke the surface and suddenly sound was all about him. He could hear birds, he could hear the water moving slowly around him, the breeze ghosting through the trees quietly. He swam towards the edge of the river and lay in the shallows, pulling in breath after ragged breath._

_Hours must have passed. Or perhaps no time at all passed. Bucky couldn't be sure. When he finally felt some more strength, he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around him curiously. His eyesight was better. He could see everything so clearly, see the ants climbing over the ant hill across the river, see a bird land on a tree twenty feet down the river’s edge._

_He looked down at his own body and was shocked to see dark green vines covering his arms and legs. He grabbed at them in a desperate attempt to get them off, feeling like he was being strangled to death. He pulled off his top and found them on his chest as well, panic gripping him tightly around the throat. Had they always been there? Bucky was suddenly at ease, they must have always been there. He couldn't be sure of many things but one thing was certain; he was alive._

Bucky’s eyes flew open and he pushed himself up, his head breaking the surface of the river. He blinked dazedly in the now rising sun. He hated when he lost control of his memories and mind like that. It was as if he entered the void and lost all conscious thought. He swam to the river bank and climbed out, shaking the water from his face. He needed to go see Steve. 

With great reluctance, he forced himself to take step after step, walking through the forest he loved so much, until he reached the path to Steve’s cabin. He stared at the entrance, too nervous to take the first step. What if Steve didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? What if he moved out of the forest all together? 

No. Bucky couldn’t let that happen. He felt such a strong connection with Steve, he knew it would be devastating if he lost him. Bucky mentally braced himself and started walking, wondering, like he had for the millionth time in his after life, what the time was. It only took him a minute to reach the cabin. He had been expecting to see the remains of his outburst, the dead plants blocking the entrance to the path. He hadn’t been prepared for Steve to be standing at his gate, frowning at the thing. 

\--

Steve felt sick. His stomach was churning, his head was aching and his nerves were at an all time high. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, struggling to focus on one particular thought. One that kept coming back to him though was to go back home and see Nat. See if she had an explanation. She did say to find out more about Bucky and Steve sure as hell had done that now. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that what was bothering him the most wasn’t what had happened with Bucky, it was that two kids had biked all the way out to his home to see if they could get a look at a murderer. He had thought that the town didn’t know who he was or what had happened. Apparently he was wrong. 

Steve waited until it hit seven before getting out of bed, resigning himself to a shitty day. He hesitantly went and got breakfast, feeling nervous for what he would find outside. He was half hoping that he would go out there and see nothing at all. No plants or a sign of anything out of the ordinary. 

But even as Steve tried to go about his normal routine of coffee, breakfast, and watching the morning news, he could see the dead plants through the window. He did his best to ignore them, tried to focus on the news, but they kept popping to the forefront of his mind, his eyes drifting from the TV to the driveway. He finally let out a groan and went outside, walking towards his gate before stopping a couple of metres away to observe. 

“What the fuck am I going to use to get rid of these?” Steve sighed. He had some weed killer in his shed but he didn’t exactly need to kill them. They was all already dead. Steve zoned out as he tried to figure out what would be best. A shovel or shears. It wasn’t until he heard the cracking of a stick that his attention was pulled away from the mess. He looked up to see Bucky standing at the start of the faint pathway towards the river. 

“Hey…” He said quietly, not knowing what else to say. 

Bucky launched straight into it. “Steve, I… I’m so sorry about what you saw this morning. I- I didn’t mean to scare you or- hurt you or anything it was just those kids- saying all those things.”

“That- that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay. It was fucking weird and terrifying but- I mean, you got the kids to leave so thanks for that?” Steve shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“So- you don’t- you’re not…?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you are telling me everything. I mean everything. I’m gonna need a full explanation.” Steve smiled, feeling more relaxed in Bucky’s presence. “But yeah, we’re okay.” 

Bucky visibly sagged in relief, taking a few steps closer so he was in line with the dead rose bush. “You, uh, you want some help uprooting this?” 

“Oh, I’m not getting rid of it. You put it there, you can get rid of it.” Steve grinned. “I need to go water my plants. Then we’ll talk.” 

“Seems fair.” Bucky snorted, turning to look at his creation. “Sure you don’t want to keep it there?” 

“Bucky, that thing is in the middle of my driveway. What do you think?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Righto.” Bucky nodded. 

Steve turned around, trying to seem normal and not like he was dead on his feet, and went to turn the hose on. He spent the next five minutes watering all of his vegetables and flowers, feeling better about the whole situation despite it not actually being talked about yet. When he returned to the front yard, he expected to see Bucky struggling but he was leaning against Steve’s car, staring at the ground in a daze. There was absolutely no sign of Bucky ever growing and killing a rose bush rapidly, no signs of the weeds or dead plants. Only healthy looking green grass covering the area. 

Steve stopped at the gate and leaned against the fence, crossing his arms and looking at Bucky. “So, we-”

Bucky jumped. “Fuck. You scared the beejesus out of me, Steve.” 

“Oh, I scared you, huh?” Steve asked in mock outrage, grinning as Bucky blushed. 

“Yeah, you scared me.” Bucky nodded, pushing away from the car to walk over to Steve. 

“The beejesus out of you?” 

“The beejesus.” Bucky nodded. 

“You wanna come inside?” Steve asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Why not.” Bucky sighed. 

Steve turned around and walked towards his house, feeling self conscious and nervous. He knew the place was a mess. There were paints and canvases everywhere and dishes in the kitchen. His bedroom door was open, revealing clothes strewn all over the floor, more paint and more dishes. As soon as Steve set sight on it all, he regretted his decision to bring Bucky into the house. 

“Oh man, this is great.” Bucky marveled as he walked in. 

“You don’t need to lie, man.” Steve shook his head. “Sorry for the mess. You want something to drink?” 

“No, I’m alright thanks.” Bucky muttered.

Once they were settled at the outside table, the sun shining down on them, Steve did his best to clear his mind before asking the million dollar question. 

“So, what the hell are you?” 

“Absolutely no idea.” Bucky said straight away. “Next question.” 

“Well, I have this- friend, sort of. I only met her a couple of days ago but she’s already inserted herself into my dreams and my life so… An acquaintance?” Steve shrugged. “Either way, she said she’s a holistic green witch and she has- this big handwritten book of mythical creatures and said you sound like a rusalka. But not.” 

“A rusalka?” Bucky frowned. 

“She said they’re typically females and they’re born out of violent deaths…” Steve trailed off, leaving it open for Bucky to comment on if he was comfortable enough to. 

“Right…” 

Steve pushed on. “Right, so, she said I should find out more about you. So… Here I am?” 

“What do you want to know?”Bucky asked uncomfortably, tracing invisible patterns on the wooden table. 

Steve opened his mouth to ask a question but he stalled as he noticed Bucky’s vines moving along his skin. “How are you doing that?” He asked breathlessly, loving the way they flowed like water on his skin.

“Doing what?” Bucky asked, looking up at him. 

“That- with your tattoos.” Steve pointed, smiling widely with fascination. 

“Oh. My- they’re not really tattoos. Just markings I got when I di- when it happened.” Bucky shrugged. “I can’t control it though. A lot of it just happens when my emotions are running high.”

“It looks awesome, man.” 

“Thanks.” Bucky mumbled. “Is that all you wanted to know?” 

“No, loads more. Last night, how did you do that? That was incredible!” Steve exclaimed, thinking about the way the roses had grown from nothing to full height within seconds. 

Bucky closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, thinking hard. “I just- feel the life that is or once was or what could be. I close my eyes and I pull them up. I can make anything grow anywhere as big or old as I want.” 

“Could you grow my vegetables really big?” Steve asked jokingly. 

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” 

“Oh, I was joking but by all means. Prove it.” Steve grinned. 

“Prove it? Was last night not enough for you?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, finally seeming to relax a bit more. 

“Definitely not. I was too caught off guard.” Steve said seriously. 

Bucky shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Watch.” 

Steve nodded and stared at Bucky’s face, noting the lines around his eyes, the weariness in his face. Steve could make out a few freckles dusted over his nose, some slight stubble over his jaw. He looked to be in his twenties. The same age as Steve. He was so beautiful and Steve was suddenly overcome with grief over the fact that Bucky had died. He’d had a family, friends, maybe a partner. He would have had an entire life and it had all been ripped away from him within seconds. 

Bucky closed his eyes and splayed his hands on the wooden table, concentrating hard. Steve looked down at his hands, watching, waiting. He knew exactly what was going to happen having seen it three times already. But, all three times, he hadn’t been focused on it. It had been something he’d noticed later on. He’d never properly seen it in action before and he was incredibly excited. 

“I’m- I’m too relaxed. Ask me a slightly personal question.” Bucky winked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

Steve’s mind stuttered to a halt. “Uh- Okay- you’re- what’s- how did you die?” 

Flowers shot up from between Bucky’s fingers, growing in the table, big beautiful asphodels growing higher than Steve’s head, blooming open and filling the surrounding area with their sweet scent. Bucky swiped his hand away from the table and jumped to his feet, his mouth half open as if he hadn’t expected the flowers to grow. 

“That was amazing.” 

“I said slightly personal. Who the fuck asks a damn near stranger how they died?” Bucky asked incredulously, ripping up the flowers from the table, leaving no trace of them ever being there. The flowers themselves shrivelled up and died in Bucky’s hands, leaving nothing behind but wilted stems. 

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I wasn’t thinking it was just the first thing that came to my head.” Steve jumped up, panic striking through him. “I never meant to upset you.” 

“It- it’s okay just- at least buy me a drink next time.” Bucky smiled slightly, the discomfort still evident in his rigid form. He sat down all the same, throwing the dead flowers over the fence and into the forest. 

“Okay, this is one question that’s been playing on my mind since I last saw you before last night…” Steve said slowly, sitting back down. “You- you were the one who saved me when I was younger, right?” 

Bucky reeled slightly. “That was me.” 

“So… If- if you’re a rusalka… Why didn’t you let me drown and then eat me like the- the lore says?” Steve asked curiously. 

“I- Steve, I need you to understand... I’ve done some bad things in this life. It’s been a long time since anyone has shown me any kind of decency. They all came in here to ‘brave the forest’ or ‘fight the ghost’ of the poor kid that drowned in the river. They’d find me and be disappointed that I wasn’t- more like I was last night…

“I’m not saying what I did was right but- it was just urges, you know? I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know how to help myself…” Bucky trailed off uncomfortably. 

“So… you do k- kill and eat- people?” Steve stammered out, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Not anymore. I was- I was going to with you but- when I saw you- you were so small, Steve. So small...” Bucky closed his eyes, a single tear leaking out. Steve’s eyes followed it as it roll down his cheek and onto his chin before dropping off and landing on the table. Steve watched it seep into the wood and smiled slightly as a single flower stretched skyward, its dark purple petals spreading out. 

“What made you stop?” Steve asked quietly. 

“I just- a lot of memories came back to me. I remembered being your age and playing in the very same river. I couldn’t let you. You were-”

“Far too young.” Steve cut in, the memory of Bucky’s words coming back to him. 

“Yes.” 

“So you made the oak tree grow there?” Steve asked slowly. 

Bucky finally opened his eyes, looking at the flower in confusion. “Yeah. There was something different about that day. Something gave me the strength not to- to do that anymore. So I wanted to make sure I could find the spot, always.” 

“Do you know what kind of flower this is?” Steve asked, nodding to the one swaying softly in the breeze. 

“Uh- It’s an anemone flower. They represent the loss of a loved one, anticipation for the future, to be forsaken or illness.The name is greek for windflower. As Aphrodite mourned the death of Adonis, the flower sprang from her tears. They can protect against evil, bring good luck and when the petals close up, it’s a sign of rain.” 

 

“Wow. You sound like a Wikipedia article.” Steve whistled. “You know a lot about flowers.” 

Bucky looked up at him. “Steve, come on. I grow them at will with my emotions. Of course I know a lot about them. Don’t be a dick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy y'all. thanks for the kudos and comments and whatnot. this is my lazy way of replying to them. i donot have any time these days. im moving house so idk when i'll be updating over the next few weeks. hopefully i can keep to my (very) rough once a week thing. 
> 
> love you all <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***IMPORTANT PLEASE READ***
> 
> so i fucked up. i uploaded chapter 7 not chapter 6 before so i had to delete that one. this is the real chapter 6. very sorry for the confusion.

“The tomatoes. They’re struggling.” 

“Got it.” 

“Oh, and the spinach and cabbage. The slugs got to them while I was away.” Steve paused in his digging and pointed down to the other end of his garden. 

“No problem.” 

Steve continued digging, his fingers buried in the dirt as he struggled to find the potatoes. He had been planning on making a potato bake with them as soon as they were ready. Now that he had Bucky’s green thumb, he didn’t have to wait. He fingers finally closed around a large potato and he pulled it up triumphantly. He smiled at it happily when a thought occurred to him. 

“Do you eat?” 

Bucky looked up from where he seemed to be caressing the leaves of the tomato plant. “What?” 

“Like, do you eat human- well, you’re human. But do you still eat food?” Steve asked, managing to skirt around a touchy subject. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I never tried. Never had the urge.” Bucky shrugged, returning his concentration to the plants. 

“Right. Would- if I cooked some dinner, would you want to try?” Steve suggested. “I make a mean potato bake.” 

“Um… I don’t see why not.” Bucky shrugged again, not looking at Steve. 

“I think I’ve got some chicken in my freezer. I could grill it or something.” Steve said thoughtfully, setting aside the potato and going for another one. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Or I could drive into town and get some long pig.” Steve said slowly, watching Bucky for his reaction. 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly before freezing and looking at Steve who grinned, unable to stop himself. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“True. But a funny one.” Steve waggled his eyebrows at him. 

“Chicken is fine.” Bucky shook his head, smiling widely. 

“Chicken it is.” Steve nodded as he found another potato buried deep. 

“Right, I think this tomato plant should be okay from now on.” Bucky grunted, standing up straight and stretching. 

Steve looked down and frowned. “There’s no tomatoes on there.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you wanted to cheat.” Bucky raised a judging eyebrow at Steve. 

“No- I didn’t- It’s not cheating! You’re basically magic.” Steve spluttered, pushing the dirt back into place to let the rest of the potatoes grow. 

“Dude, it’s not magic. But even if it was, magic has laws. They’re still plants. I don’t know how it works exactly but I don’t just make them appear out of thin air. The water and nutrients have to come from somewhere. If I made a few tomatoes grow on this plant, the rest of this plant would die because it will have put all of its efforts into growing the tomatoes within seconds rather than over a period of time.” 

Steve stared at Bucky. “You could revive the plant afterwards though, right?” 

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “Steve, you don’t understand. This forest is life. It’s full of animals, insects and plants. I don’t know when it happened, but I eventually accepted that this was my home and, it sounds fucking cliche but I’m a part of this forest.” 

Steve snorted. “You-”

“Let me finish. I’m a part of this forest just as much as this forest is a part of me. When I came to accept that, I started caring for it. It’s my home. It saved me when I needed it most and so now I need to take care of it. That’s what the vines are for, maybe. I think they’re the source of my- my power or something.” 

Steve nodded seriously. “I get you, I understand and it sounds awesome but… Just one tomato? It’s just so much easier than going into town and getting fertilizer.” 

“Oh my god, Steve.” 

“Actually, I need to go into town for some groceries and for slug repellant anyway. So I can just grab the fertilizer then.” Steve said airily. 

“Dude, what did the slugs ever do to you?” 

“They ate my plants that I worked hard to grow! They’re fucking pests.” 

“They were here before you.” Bucky said simply, walking down to the cabbages to do his thing. 

“Well, true, but... “ 

“But what?”

“But… but nothing. You’re right, I guess.” Steve sighed.

“Why does a slug's life have any less value than yours?” Bucky asked seriously. Steve started laughing loudly, confusing Bucky. “What? Why? He’s just trying to make a life for himself. Why is that any different to what you’re doing? Stop laughing at me!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I get where you’re coming from and I definitely won’t kill slugs anymore but I just- you reminded me of a movie.” Steve struggled to get out. 

“What movie?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. 

“It’s called The Bee Movie. It’s- the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” Steve sniggered, getting up from in front of the potato patch. 

“Why is it ridiculous?” 

“Because a bee falls in love with a human and I think she does as well in a way.” Steve explained. “We should watch it!” 

“A bee falls in love with a human? I don’t know if this is the kind of movie I should watch…” Bucky said slowly. 

“No, it’s got a good message about the over keeping of bees and all this kind of shit but, the main bee also falls in love with a human.” Steve shrugged. “It’s great.” 

“All right then. You uh, you go start making dinner and I’m going to go for a quick swim and then I’ll be good for the rest of the day.” Bucky explained, his fingers deep in the dirt beneath the cabbages. 

“That water must be freezing, and I think you’re insane, but go for it.” Steve smiled, gathering up the four potatoes he’d managed to pull up. “You like cheese?” 

“I did? So, load it on there.” Bucky said, pulling his fingers out and dusting them off. 

“Brilliant. I’ll see you soon.” Steve smiled, heading back into the house as Bucky left the garden. He put the potatoes in the sink and started washing his hands, smiling to himself. He and Bucky had spent the majority of the morning talking about any questions Steve had, but also about everything that had happened in the world since Bucky had changed. 

Steve and Bucky had spent a few hours lounging around in the late Autumn sun, talking about whatever came to Bucky’s mind, different things that had happened since he’d died. When things started getting too personal for Bucky, he’d managed to find a way around it by changing the subject to Steve’s garden. They’d then spent the afternoon gardening and talking even more about life in the modern age. Steve had managed to skillfully steer the conversation away from his own personal life and why he lived in the forest, not even hinting that there was something to tell. 

Bucky was easy to talk to. There was something about him that made Steve feel so at ease and happy. It had been a while since he’d felt this kind of happiness. Not since before Evan had died. He felt a connection with Bucky and the best part was, the guilt over finding someone else after Evan, it was barely there at all. He felt like he could bare his soul to Bucky and be okay with it.

While they’d sat in the sun, pulling up vegetables and picking fruit, Bucky had told him about the forest. Steve hadn’t had any idea how big it actually was and he was astounded to find out that it spread right into Canada. Steve thought he’d already seen most of the forest. But apparently there was more to it. 

Bucky had gone on about his favourite places, telling Steve he’d take him to see them one day. It was the most peaceful and relaxing day Steve had had since Evan had died. When it had happened, he’d thought that it would never happen again. That he would never truly be at ease for a whole day. But Bucky pulled that out of him. 

In the back of his head, he knew it was something to do with whatever Bucky was but he ignored it. Whatever Bucky was, it wasn’t dangerous. At least not for Steve. If he’d wanted to hurt Steve or kill him, he’d had plenty of opportunities. 

“So, we watching this movie or not?” 

Steve looked up from where he was chopping potatoes to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He smiled and put down the knife, drying his hands on the dish towel. “I was going to make dinner first because I’m starving and haven’t eaten all day.” 

“Go for it. I’ll sit here and- wait.” Bucky nodded, sitting down at the small table. 

Steve continued making his dinner, preparing to ask a question that had been bothering him all day. “Bucky…” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I ask you a question? A- personal one?” Steve asked slowly. 

“Um… Depends.” Bucky frowned. 

“How did you die? Like, what happened?” 

Bucky let out a long shaky breath. “I… I was…”

“If you don’t want to answer it you don’t have to. I shouldn’t have asked. Forget I said anything.” Steve shook his head, feeling uncomfortable and rude. 

“No no it’s… It’s just not something I think about a lot. I was… Swimming in the river and... I drowned.” 

Steve took a sharp intake of breath and Bucky let the sentence hang in the air, filling the room with a cold, hard tension so thick Steve could have cut it with the knife in his hand. He’d guessed that that was what had happened but it was still awful to hear it from Bucky’s lips. Steve had no idea what to say. All he could manage was a pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ which did not cover it in any way at all. 

He was silent for a moment as Steve layered the potatoes in the oven dish before Bucky sighed angrily. “It was my own god damn fault. My whole family had told me not to swim in the river. My fucking brother had laughed at me as I’d gotten in. It was just so damn hot that day… It was one of those days where you couldn’t find any relief inside or outside. That river was the only source of refreshment we had and I just… It was stupid. 

“I had only been swimming for ten minutes before I realised I’d gone downstream too much. Before I knew it and before I could stop it I was being pushed under and I couldn’t breathe and everything was going dark and… Suddenly everything just stopped. I- I was nothing. I couldn’t feel or think or see or anything at all. Until I could…”

“Buck…”

“When conscious thought came back to me I was… I can’t describe it. I had no memories… No actual thoughts other than what was happening right at that moment.” Bucky’s eyes were closed, his fists clenched tight in his lap. “I was just slowly becoming aware of my surroundings and what had happened… Then the pain hit.” 

“What happened?” Steve croaked. 

“It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Or, afterlife I guess. But… It was like- like being struck by lightning, lit on fire, stabbed and cut and sliced into… Like every bone in my body was breaking over and over again… Like my blood had turned to acid...” 

Steve could barely breathe himself. He was at a complete loss for what to say. He wished he’d never brought it up. He wished he could run away and never ever return to the tragedy of what had happened. But he knew he needed to hear it. If he wanted to get close to Bucky, which he so desperately did, he knew that he needed to face up to this. Just like he would eventually have to tell Bucky about Evan.

“I finally had the thought to come up for air and got out of the water. I don’t know how long I lay there for but… My memories started coming back to me eventually and when I went back to my family’s cabin it was… It-” Bucky broke off as tears started cascading down his face. 

“Bucky.” Steve said softly, dropping everything to go to him. He pulled him into a hug, awkwardly half bent over. 

“They were gone. It was empty.” Bucky sniffed, pulling away from Steve and taking in a few shaky breaths.

“What do you mean?” 

“It was like no one had set foot in there for a year. All of our family photos were gone, any personal belonging was gone and there was dust everywhere that hadn’t been disturbed for months.” Bucky mumbled. 

“I don’t understand…” 

“I think my- my death and transformation took- took a year. Maybe less, maybe longer.” Bucky croaked, wiping his face. 

“What the fuck?” Steve looked down at him, confusion and sadness filling him up. 

“I don’t know. It’s all fucked.” Bucky shrugged, shaking his head and managing a watery smile up at Steve. 

“Bucky… How old are you? How old were you when you- when it happened?” Steve asked cautiously, preparing himself for the worst. 

“I’m- I was twenty six. I don’t know how old I am now though. What year is it?” Bucky asked, trying and failing to sound casual. 

“It’s twenty seventeen…” Steve said slowly, watching Bucky frown as he worked out the maths. 

“I died in nineteen sixty-four. It’s been… Fifty three years…” 

Steve fell into the seat opposite Bucky, shock stealing his words from him. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway. They sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, before Bucky finally broke the silence. 

“Right. Dinner? Movie?” Bucky clapped his hands together and stood up. 

“Yes. Shit. Right. Sorry.” Steve stood up as well and returned to his potatoes. “I didn’t mean to uh, drag all that up and shit… I was just… Yeah. Sorry.” 

“Steve, it’s fine. I would be the same if I was in your position. I kind of am anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked as he put the dish in the oven to start cooking. 

“Well, it’s not exactly normal for someone to live on their own in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere, talking to no one but his mom.” Bucky snorted. “And… I kind of heard some of what those shitty kids were saying to you…”

“Oh… Yeah.” 

“You don’t have to tell me now. Whenever you’re ready.” Bucky said firmly, smiling sympathetically at Steve. 

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve smiled back, standing in place as their eyes locked. It took a minute of the two men staring at each other, the room filled with electricity, before Steve remembered he had chicken to cook. He cleared his throat loudly and turned away, hiding himself in his fridge for a moment to compose himself. 

“I’m gonna go wait in the living room.” Bucky stated loudly. 

“Stay out of my bedroom, it’s a mess.” Steve called, knowing fully well that he’d just given Bucky every reason to go into his room. 

“I won’t make any promises.” Bucky called back. He left the kitchen and walked slowly through the living room, enjoying the warm feeling that was surrounding him, filling him up with happiness. He walked over to a door on the far wall and pushed it open, expecting to see Steve’s bedroom. Instead he was met with the smell of paint, a dozen different colours jumping out at him, canvases filling the room. 

Bucky took a few steps into the room and turned around slowly, taking it all in. Steve had a few works up on the wall, hanging proudly. There was a huge pile of canvases stacked in the corner, a large easel and paint everywhere. It covered damn near every surface that was visible. Splatters all over the floor, on the walls, even on the ceiling. There was a half finished painting still in the easel, mostly just blurs of green and brown and blue but Bucky could make out the definition of trees and flowers. 

He retreated back into the living room and closed the door quietly, the smell of cheese baking and chicken frying reaching his nose. Bucky’s stomach suddenly gave a great jolt of pain at the smells, the thought of food making him salivate instantly. It had been fifty three years since he’d ever smelt proper food and he was suddenly feeling it. 

“Yo, Steve.” He called, returning to the kitchen. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“I need food. My stomach grumbled when I smelt dinner and I’ve never felt so fucking hungry in my life before.” Bucky grinned. 

Steve laughed and opened the fridge, staring at the meager amount of food he had in there. Most of it was leftovers that was definitely not safe for eating, dead or alive. He shut his fridge and opened a cupboard, managing to locate a box of graham crackers. 

“Here. Munch on those while you wait. It’s almost done anyway.” Steve said happily, returning to his chicken. “Actually, could you watch that for a second while I set up the movie?” 

“Absolutely.”

Within ten minutes they were both settled down in front of Steve’s TV, three feet apart on the couch. The movie was playing and Steve was digging into his dinner. He looked over at Bucky who was looking down at the food nervously. 

“What’s up?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just- nervous about whether this is gonna work.” Bucky said slowly, spearing a piece of chicken on his fork. 

“Did you not eat the graham crackers?”

“No I- I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” Steve said gently, struggling to imagine what exactly Bucky was going through. 

“I guess I won’t know until I try.” Bucky shrugged and put the chicken in his mouth. A split second later his eyes were watering and he was smiling as he chewed. “This is incredible.” He grinned. 

“Fantastic.” Steve said happily, returning his gaze to the movie. 

Steve finished his dinner first, Bucky following closely after. Bucky stood up and took their plates back into the kitchen before returning and falling down into his seat. Except it wasn’t his original seat. He was now mere inches away and Steve was not complaining in the slightest. 

Steve had no idea why he’d suggested this movie. He always forgot that it ended up putting him to sleep. Adding to the fact that he hadn’t slept for even a minute the night before, he was out to it before the movie was even halfway through. 

\--

Four hours later, the sun had set, the movie had finished and the living room was in total darkness. Steve was met with warmth surrounding him and a whole lot of confusion. He blearily opened his eyes, his first thought being to find his phone to check the time. His second thought was of the warmth that was making him reluctant to get up at all. 

He was so tired that he couldn’t make sense so he just lay there, enjoying the feeling. At some point it occurred to him that it had to be Bucky that had turned the light off, put the blanket over Steve and was now spooning him. It had been two years since Steve had felt the safety of someone holding him, he had no intention of getting up just yet. It was all ruined by Bucky suddenly sitting upright, half knocking Steve off of the couch. 

“Fuck.” 

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve croaked, struggling to get up. In the end he just let himself fall off of the couch to sit on the floor. 

“I need to- swim. My hair tie fell out and my hairs getting dry.” Bucky said sleepily, looking around in the darkness.

“You- what? Swim? What the fuck?” Steve asked stupidly. 

“If my hair gets too dry I- well, I don’t know exactly what happens but it ain’t good.” Bucky said, looking around the couch to find his hair tie. 

“Jesus. I’ll turn the light on so you can find it.” Steve grunted as he clambered to his feet. 

“No, I can see in the dark.” Bucky muttered absentmindedly. He managed to locate it stuffed between two of the cushions. “I’ll uh- I’ll see you soon, Steve.” 

“W- wait.” Steve almost whimpered, still half asleep. But Bucky was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Steve turned around to find his way to his bedroom but was stopped by Bucky’s sudden return. “Forgot to say, thanks for tonight. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.” 

“Oh, it’s no worries. Anytime. Tell me what to cook next time and I-” Steve’s words were cut off as Bucky’s lips closed over his, casting out any logical thought from his mind. Time seemed to stand still. Every nerve in Steve’s body had been electrified. But just as fast as it had started, right when Steve’s instinct was kicking in, it was over and Bucky had disappeared through the front door again. 

He stood there, his arms still hanging at his sides and his lips parted slightly. He raised his fingers to his lips and felt them, almost expecting to feel the zinging. It took him a minute but he finally snapped out of it and made himself go to his bedroom. He stripped out of his clothes in a daze, smiling every now and then as the memory came rushing back at him. He fell into bed and was asleep within minutes, thoughts of Bucky carrying him into a blissful sleep. 

\--

From that night on, Bucky came over every night. They’d have dinner together, always whatever Bucky requested. He was slowly going through all his favourite meals and different foods. Steve had made trips into town to pick up a bunch of obscure things for Bucky. Most of the time he’d manage to get everything but every now and then Steve would discover that they no longer sold something and Bucky would be devastated. 

Everything seemed to be going great except for one thing. It had been three weeks since Bucky had kissed Steve and it hadn’t happened again. He would show up around lunchtime and they’d spend the rest of the day together, watching a movie or TV show with dinner, and then Bucky would leave. Always with a thank you and an empty feeling in Steve’s chest. 

When it got to a month since the kiss, Steve decided to do something about it. He was preparing to go see his art dealer and his mom for the weekend and Bucky was upset that he wouldn’t get to see Steve for four days. 

“Why does it have to be for four days again?” 

“Because, I’ve spent too much time shut up here with you and have neglected my duties as a son.” Steve sighed, stuffing his clothes into his duffel bag. 

“Right..

“The offer still stands if you changed your mind about coming?” Steve looked up at Bucky. He was sitting on Steve’s bed staring at his hands, his vines moving as if in a gentle breeze. 

“No, I uh… I’ll be okay. I’ll just miss you is all.” He mumbled. 

“Bucky… I don’t get it.” Steve sighed, zipping up his bag and standing up. “A month ago, you kissed me. Then I get nothing at all for four weeks. No mention of it or anything. Now you’re saying you’ll miss me and you don’t want me to go? I just don’t get it.” 

Bucky took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he considered his words. “Fuck. Um. I’ve kind of been waiting for this. Look, Steve, at- at first I wanted it. I still do but… You don’t want me. Even if you think you do, you don’t. As far as I can tell, I’m immortal. I don’t want us to get into a situation where- one of us loses the other because you’ve started aging and I’m still the same old paranormal oddity.”

Steve considered him for a moment. “I get where you’re coming from… But isn’t that a decision I should make myself?” Steve asked slowly.

“I mean, yes but, I should also have a say in it because it wouldn’t exactly be fun watching you grow old.” Bucky muttered, looking away. 

“Okay, how about this. We stay as just friends. I’m still gonna get old and you’re still gonna stay the same. I’m still going to die of old age and you know what would suck the most?” 

“What?” 

“We’d both be full of regret for not giving it a go. We will have wasted all that time wondering what could be but we decided to keep it platonic because I was going to die someday.” Steve stared at him, fighting off the grin as it dawned on Bucky.

“Oh, well, that- that’s just- totally- I’m- You’re not-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Bucky.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate and this time he didn’t stop.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> youve read this one already now lmao

“He did what?!”

“He was like glowing almost and his voice went all weird and he was making all these plants grow and die and-”

“What the fuck!” 

“Nat, we have customers.” Sam warned, glancing around the cafe. 

“Fuck. Steve, come upstairs. Customers be damned.” Nat rolled her eyes, jumping up and grabbing Steve’s hand, tugging him to his feet. She dragged him around the counter and out into the kitchen. Steve only saw it for a second before she was pulling him up a set of stairs in a hurry. 

“Natasha, you- whoa.” Steve’s words halted at the sight of their living room. “This is-”

“Not what you were expecting?” Nat raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Uh, yeah. This is- normal. Like- I don’t mean-”

“It’s fine. I know what you mean.” Nat laughed. “You want something to drink? We’ve got coffee, water, juice, soda… I think I have some vodka somewhere as well actually.” 

“Uh, I’m good thanks.” Steve called as Nat disappeared in the kitchen. 

“Suit yourself.” 

Steve sat down on the couch and looked around, taking in the minimalist lifestyle Sam and Natasha lead. They didn’t even have a TV. The only personal items Steve could actually see were a few photo frames dotted around on shelves and tables. Nat emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with what Steve could only assume was a cocktail. She didn’t say anything to him as she walked past, just gestured for him to follow her. 

Steve jumped up and darted after her down the hallway. She disappeared through a dark wooden door, set out from the rest of the painted white doors. He stopped in the doorway and stared, his mouth open widely. 

“Is this more what you were expecting?” Nat asked airily, bustling about between tables and bookshelves, moving in and out of sight. 

“Uh- yeah. Definitely.” Steve breathed, enjoying the soft smell of grass and flowers. There were all sorts of different pot plants hanging everywhere, tables covered in books and stones and dried flowers. In the far corner, sun streaming through the window, was one giant flower in a pot, slowly moving as if in a breeze. But the window was closed and it was incredibly stuffy in there. 

“Let’s open a window.” Nat sighed, as if reading Steve’s mind. She crossed the room to the window and opened it wide, the room cooling unnaturally fast. 

Steve continued looking around in wonder, trying to take it all in. Natasha’s big brown book caught his eye. It was open on the same page as the last time Steve had seen it. ‘Rusalka’ in big golden letters across the top. Steve went to pick up the book but Nat stopped him from somewhere in the room. He couldn’t actually see her though. 

“Don’t touch! That book is my pride and joy. I’ve been working on that book for as long as I can remember so please do not touch it. It’s very old.” She explained, finally emerging to sit down at a desk near the window. There were three separate stacks of books, a pile of old looking scrolls, a tray filled with water and leaves and about six or seven empty coffee mugs. “Take a seat.”

Steve dropped into the seat on the other side of her desk and let out a deep breath before he finished telling her all about that spooky night when Bucky had shown his true self. Finally finishing at Bucky running away into the night. 

“So this is why you came to see me? Did it happen last night? I knew it wasn’t safe. I knew I should have gone back with you that first time you told me about him.” Natasha said furiously. 

“What? No, this happened over a month ago. I’ve just been distracted and busy.” Steve shook his head, mentally bracing himself for the telling off he was about to receive. 

“A month?! What the fuck, Steve?!” Natasha burst out, standing in her seat to look down at him wildly. “Why wouldn’t you- what the hell is wrong with you?! It’s not safe to be around! It could kill you! It’s probably killed before! What the fuck has happened since that night?!”

“Look, it’s different, okay? He’s a person with feelings and he’s actually really nice. He doesn’t want to hurt me at all. He helped my vege garden grow.” Steve said defensively, knowing how pathetic he must sound to her. 

“Steve... “

“He saved my life.” 

“Steve, I hardly think those boys were going to try and kill you.” Natasha scoffed. 

“No. Not on that night. When I was younger. I almost drowned in the river and it was him. He’s the one who saved me. If he wanted to hurt me or kill me, he would have done it by now.” Steve said, desperate for her to see it from his side. 

“You don’t know that. He could be biding his time as part of his sick game.” 

“That’s not true and you know it. Creatures like him wouldn’t do that.” Steve snapped. 

Natasha sighed deeply and put her head in her hands, considering her options. She sat in silence for a minute before slowly lifting her head to look at Steve firmly. “I want to meet him. No arguments. No matter what it takes. You bring him here so I can check him out for myself.” 

“I bet you want to check him out.” Steve snorted without thinking.

“Excuse me?” 

“He’s just ridiculously good looking. Doesn’t matter. But yes. I will do my best to get him here.” 

Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve. “You slept with him didn’t you.” 

“What? No- that’s- I- not at all.” Steve spluttered, his face going bright red within seconds. 

“Oh my god, Steve. Really?”

“No!” Steve rolled his eyes, looking up and discovering over a dozen more plants hanging from the ceiling. He could barely see the actual roof through the leaves and flowers. 

“So what have you been doing then? Other than screwing?” Natasha smirked. 

“Not that it matters, but we haven’t slept together, thank you very much. We almost did last night but no. We just chill. We discovered he can still eat and digest food so he’s been requesting different meals all the time. He helps my garden grow. I paint. We watch movies. I’m mostly just catching him up on all the stuff he’s missed.”

“Wait, how old is he? How long ago did he die?”

“He’s twenty six. Died fifty three years ago in sixty four.” Steve said sadly. 

“Oh shit.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Does he know your whole tragic backstory?” 

“Uh- no, and there’s no reason for him to. Yet.” 

“Okay. So. Where do we go from here?” She mumbled more to herself than to Steve. 

“Nowhere? I guess we pause. If you think you want to meet him.” Steve shrugged. 

“Steve, look around and tell me what you see.” Natasha said patiently. 

Steve glanced around the cluttered room and looked back at her. “A whole lot of witch stuff and plants?” 

“You see the amount of things I have going on? The different remedies and poisons and cures I’m making? Did you see the shelves of different creatures in jars? Did you see the tonnes of books on different creatures from every type of environment you can find all over the earth?” 

Steve frowned at her in confusion. “Not specifically but- I saw the b-”

“So you know the knowledge I possess and the power I wield and the wisdom I have accumulated over my lifespan. You know that when I say I need to meet a supernatural being that is not safe, you know I’m not fucking around?” 

Understanding dawned on Steve and he had the decency to look ashamed. “Okay. I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you.” Natasha sighed in relief. “Just- be careful. Okay? You don’t know what that thing is capable of.” 

“That thing has a name, Nat. He had a life and a family and he has feelings. I don’t believe he would hurt me. Not after spending all that time getting to know each other. He wouldn’t... He couldn’t…” Steve trailed off as doubts seeped into his mind. 

Nat seemed to soften at the look on Steve’s face. “I’m sure you’re right, Steve. But I want to make sure. Just to be safe.” 

Steve nodded and gave her a weak smile, eager to get home and see Bucky. “Thanks, Nat. So, do you have anymore ideas about what he could be?”

“Not until I meet him.” She sighed, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. “I should get back to Sam.”

“Yeah, I need to get going as well actually. I have a lunch date with an old friend.” Steve said as he glanced at his watch. He was actually going to be late if he didn’t leave right away. 

“I know you don’t get a lot of signal out there but here,” Nat passed him a piece of paper and smiled. “Please call me if anything happens or if you wanna chat. It must get a little lonely out there.”

“Not really. Especially not with Bucky around now.” Steve replied, taking the paper which, upon closer inspection, was actually parchment. Her number was scrawled across, curly writing flowing smoothly. 

“Okay, don’t spare my feelings, Steve.” She snorted. 

“No, that’s not what I meant- I’ll call you, I will I was just-.” Steve cut off and rolled his eyes as Nat started laughing. “Fuck you. I won’t call you then.” 

“Don’t be like that Stevie.” Natasha simpered, standing up from her desk. “Come on. You don’t want to miss your date.”

“It’s not a date.” Steve said absentmindedly as he followed her out of the enchanting room. “It’s with Evans little sister.” 

“Oh? I didn’t think you were on good terms with any of them.” Nat raised an eyebrow at him as she locked the door behind them. 

Steve shrugged. “So did I.” 

\--

“Do you remember- when- when Evan was insisting on pronouncing Arkansas as ar-kansas?!” Emily cackled, struggling to breathe as Steve did his best to keep his drink in his mouth instead of spraying it over Emily and their lunches. 

“Holy shit, he got so mad at us!” Steve laughed once he’d successfully swallowed his coffee. 

“Oh man, at least we got him to see the light.” Emily smiled, her laugh dying down to a giggle. 

“Yeah, eventually.” Steve snorted, swirling the dregs of his coffee around in his cup. They fell into a content silence for a moment before Emily asked Steve something he should have expected but still took him by surprise.

“How come you haven’t sold the house yet?” She asked, forcing herself to sound casual but failing completely. It sounded more like an accusation of some sort. 

Steve straightened in his seat and stared at his cup, thinking about how to answer her. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it I guess. The more time went on, the less time I spent around here and it just… kind of sat in the back of my mind. I don’t know…” Steve trailed off. 

“Mom wants you to. She has to drive past it on her way to work and she hates it. It’s a daily reminder of it all.” Emily said quietly. 

Suddenly it was as if a blanket had been lifted. This was the real reason Emily had organised this. She didn’t want to reconnect or help him at all. She just wanted him to get the house taken down. Steve looked at her, seeing right through the sad smile on her face. 

“Is that what this is about?” Steve asked harshly. 

“What?” 

“This whole meetup. You want something from me so you have to play nice on behalf of the family?” He narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing every detail on her face. 

“Steve, that’s not- I wouldn’t do that. I really do want us to be friends again.” She stammered, her face blushing heavily. 

“You still think I did it, don’t you?” Steve glared. When she remained silent he scoffed. “I don’t know why I thought you’d changed.” 

“Steve, it’s been two years. Just tear the damn thing down and sell it off.” Emily snapped. “Once you do, you should give the money to us. It wasn’t your family house. It was ours.” 

“I can’t believe this.” Steve shook his head, laughing bitterly over his own stupidity. 

“Look, I’m not here to yell at you or accuse you of killing my brother. I just want you to do what's right. For everyone.” She pleaded. “Not just for us.” 

She had a point. Steve knew he needed to take this step. He had been thinking about it since his last visit home. But the petty side of him kept telling him that now he couldn’t sell the land. He tried to shut that voice down and be reasonable. 

“Do you still think I did it?” 

“Steve…” 

“Just answer the question.” 

“Yes. Okay? I do. How can I not? He put the deed of the house into his name two months beforehand. Made you the beneficiary of his life insurance three months before. He called me the night before about that argument you guys had! The fact that they found you innocent fucking astounds me!” Emily shouted. 

Steve stood up so violently his chair fell over, grabbing the attention of everyone else in the cafe. “Fuck you. Fuck you for believing I would do something like that. Fuck you for not even bothering to ask me. Fuck you and your whole fucking family.” 

He grabbed his phone off the table and stormed out of the cafe, ignoring the looks from everyone. He jumped straight in his car and drove off as fast as he could. He was breathing heavily as his eyes burned with tears. He needed to calm down before he hit someone. He was already going over the speed limit. 

Once he was far enough away, he pulled into a half empty parking lot and sat for a moment, clenching the steering wheel tight. He slowed his breathing down before pulling out his phone and calling his mom. 

“Hi Stevie.” 

“Mom, she fucking- it fucking happened again.” Steve stammered, the tears spilling over as he started to break down. 

“What? What happened?” 

“It was going fine until she brought up the house and asked why I hadn’t taken it down.” Steve said shakily, staring back at a man that hadn’t taken his eyes off of Steve since he’d pulled into the parking lot. He finally looked away and Steve relaxed slightly. 

“Oh honey.” Sarah sighed. “Come home. We can talk about it there, okay?” 

“I’ll be there soon.”

\--

“Steven, please calm down. Being angry doesn’t do anything.” Sarah sighed, glancing up from her book at Steve pacing up and down the living room. 

“Sorry. She just pissed me off so much.” Steve said shakily. He clenched his fists and sat down on the empty armchair, forcing himself to breathe deeply. 

“She does have a point, you know.” 

“What?! How can you say that!” 

“Not about Evan.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “About the house. You don’t visit it. There’s nothing left to do but demolish it and move on.”

“I haven’t- I don’t-”

“Steve, I know it’s hard to think about. Even harder to do but I’m sure you’re strong enough to call in a company to demolish it and then call a real estate agent to deal with it. You wouldn’t even have to go back there if you really don’t want to.” 

This was not the reception Steve had expected from his mom. He had been ready for some comforting words, a warm hug and maybe some food of some kind. It was what she always did so for her to suddenly be siding with Emily and the rest of the shitty family shocked Steve into silence. 

“I can do it for you if you want?” His mom suggested, still apparently engrossed in her book. 

Steve looked at her for a moment, picking at his nails in his lap. “That… that would be nice. Are you sure? I mean, I guess I could do it. You don’t have to. You’ve got enough on your plate with work.” Steve sighed. “I’ll call someone tomorrow.” 

“Why not call now?” Sarah shrugged, turning a page. Steve had no idea how she could pay attention to both him and her book and not lose where she was up to. 

“Uh… Laziness?” Steve tried, smirking slightly. 

“Do it now. You’re going home tomorrow and you’ll either forget or just won’t do it.” She muttered. 

“True. Who do I call? What do I look for?” Steve pondered, getting up from the chair. 

“I’ve got a business card on the corkboard in the kitchen.” 

Steve shook his head and smiled. Of course she did. He went into the kitchen and found the card, smiling to himself at the fact that she already had a number for him. It had been her plan all along and it was annoying yet endearing. 

Ten minutes later, he’d arranged for someone to stop by in the morning to arrange a quote. The next was the hard part. He dialled the number for Evan’s family home and waited patiently, his nerves eating away at his stomach. Someone finally picked up and Steve froze. 

“Hello?” It was Evan’s mom.

“Uh...:”

“Hello? Who is this?” 

“Hi, sorry. I lost you for a moment. Um, is Emily there?” Steve asked hopefully. 

“Yes, just one second. Emily?! Phone!” 

Steve waited a moment, his anxiety increasing the longer he waited. 

“Emily speaking.” 

“Hi. It- It’s Steve.” 

“What do you want?” She demanded, her voice going cold instantly. 

“Are you busy tomorrow morning around nine?” 

“Why…?” She replied suspiciously. 

“Do you want to drop by the house tomorrow and meet the contractor that’s going to take down the house?” 

Emily was silent for a moment. “What changed your mind?” 

“My mom.” 

“I can make time for that... I always did like your mom.” 

“She’s pretty great. Believe it or not she already had a number for me to call. She must have been waiting for it for a while.” 

“Bless her… You know I did actually mean it when I said I’d get everyone to stop abusing her in public. It’s not fair on her.” Emily sighed regretfully, sounding like she actually meant it. 

“Thank you. I’m going back home tomorrow but when I come back next I’ll have the paperwork to put the house back in your name.” 

“Steve... “ Emily whispered, sounding like she was going to cry. 

“Um, before you get the house taken down, you might want to find a way to get upstairs and make sure there’s nothing worth keeping up there.” Steve stated in a bland tone, wanting nothing more than to end the call. 

“Thank you, Steve. This means so much, you have no idea.” Emily said happily. 

“My pleasure.” Steve gritted out. “Look, I’ve got to get going. But uh, yeah.”

“Okay. If I find anything that’s yours I’ll give it to your mom to send to you.” 

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll see you.” 

“Bye.” 

Steve ended the call and let out a shaky breath, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He dropped into a seat at the dining table and stared at the grain of the wood, reeling from what he’d just done. 

“That was very noble, sweetheart.” 

Steve turned around to see his mom standing in the doorway, watching him sadly. He hated those looks of pity. He nodded and pulled his phone out, pretending to be doing something so he could avoid any real conversation. 

“Right, it’s your last night before you go back. What do we want for dinner? I’ll cook anything you want.” Sarah said airily, opening the fridge to look inside. 

“Can we get some pizza delivered?” Steve asked hopefully. 

“Oh thank god, I do not feel like cooking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for the fuck up and thank y'all for reading <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 8 is up super early to celebrate hitting 50 subscribers and getting over 100 hits. y'all are the best i love you. i love you so much that this is the first smutty chapter. enjoy <3

Stones crunched underneath the wheels of Steve’s car as he pulled into his driveway, turning the car off and sitting for a moment. The sun was just setting behind the treeline, giving off a beautiful warm glow, bathing his home and garden in a soft pink light. He made a mental note to come out and paint the sunset one night before it got too cold to be out at that time. With Bucky coming around every day, he was beginning to slack off on his painting and he really needed to up his game. 

But with Winter well on its way, he knew he’d pick it up easy enough. Once it started snowing, he was in his element. There was nothing he loved more than painting the snow capped trees surrounded by the fog in the morning. What was even better was wrapping up warm, making himself a hot cup of tea and sitting outside to watch the sunrise. It was so incredibly stunning and he could never get enough of it.

Sitting in his car, watching the light ever so slowly fade, Steve was struck with inspiration. He jumped out of the car and raced inside, bursting through the doors into his art room. He carefully grabbed a new blank canvas and his box of paints. He’d no doubt need more than what was in there but he would deal with that when he came to it. 

He returned to his car and sat on the hood, facing the sunset, and started to paint. His fingers eagerly spreading the colours around, filling the canvas with the beauty he saw before him. Ten minutes later he conceded that there wasn’t enough light to continue working outside and he finally acknowledged the cramp in his fingers. His butt was sore from sitting on the car and his hunger was also making itself known in a very painful way. 

During the entire drive home, Steve had been trying and failing to come up with a way to get Bucky to go see Nat with him but once he’d gotten home and decided to paint, all thoughts of Bucky had left his mind. Now that he wasn’t distracted, it was just hitting him that Bucky hadn’t actually shown up yet. 

He brought the canvas inside first, laying it flat on a spare table before returning to grab the rest of his things from the hood of his car. He stopped for a moment and looked down the path towards the river, wondering where Bucky was. Steve knew he lost track of time very easily but it was still making him nervous somehow. 

Steve returned to the house and put everything away, making sure to turn on all the lights so that if Bucky showed up later, he’d know Steve was still up. Once that was done, he set about getting some dinner. It was half past seven by the time Steve had finished and was relaxing in front of the TV, some game show playing in the background as Steve text his mom. It wasn’t long before he dozed off.

\--

It took two days for Bucky to show up with the excuse of ‘I lost track of time.’. 

Steve was outside sketching a bird he was feeding, enjoying the sun on his back when the bird suddenly flew off at the sound of footsteps. Steve turned around and stared at Bucky’s sheepish face. 

“I lost- I lost track of time.” Bucky panted. He was sopping wet and sounded like he’d run all the way from the oak tree. “When did you get home?” 

“Two days ago.” Steve informed him, sitting his rock on his drawing to stop it flying away in the slight wind. 

“Steve, fuck, I’m so sorry. I just- when you don’t have anyone to talk to and there’s nothing to do, it’s so easy to lose track of everything. It’s hard to get into the habit of counting days again. I only did it for a week or so after it happened and I sometimes lose myself when I’m in the river and-”

“Bucky!” Steve interrupted, smiling softly at him. “It’s fine. I get it.” 

Bucky sagged in relief and smiled back, walking over to join him at the table where he was working. “Why is there a rock on your drawing?” 

“It’s my paperweight.” Steve said simply.

“Why don’t you get a proper one?” Bucky raised his eyebrow at Steve, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I don’t see the point in wasting money on something when I have a perfectly good rock that cost me nothing.” Steve shrugged, smiling as Bucky rolled his eyes. “Money doesn’t grow on trees. And painting doesn’t actually make a lot of money these days.” 

“You seem to manage though.” Bucky pointed out, pulling Steve’s drawing from under the rock. 

“Yeah, only cause I grow my own food and barely use any power... Oh well. I couldn’t go back to accounting. I’d probably die of boredom.” Steve snorted for a second before wincing and looking at Bucky. “Sorry, Buck.” 

Bucky looked up from Steve’s drawing, confusion on his face. “Huh?”

“I- nothing.” Steve shook his head and smiled, watching Bucky look closely at his half finished drawing. 

“Steve, this is incredible.” Bucky said finally. 

“Thanks. It’s not finished though. You scared the damn bird away.” Steve said gesturing to the remaining seeds sitting on the table. “He was getting closer to me as well.” 

“How long did you have to wait before he landed?” 

“I’ve been sitting here an hour.” Steve said painfully. 

“Oh shit. Sorry.” 

“Yeah, you fucking owe me.” Steve looked at him meaningfully and winked. 

Bucky blushed and looked away, stumbling over his words. “Well, I mean, I hardly owe you because I grow all your vegetables for you, if anything you owe me and, to be honest, that bird could have flown away for any reason you don’t know-”

“Bucky!” Steve cut over him once more, grinning at how flustered he was. Bucky looked at him and frowned. “Dude, chill. I’m not about to jump your bones.”

“Right…”

“I actually have a favour to ask you.” Steve said slowly, deciding now was as good a time as any. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I uh, I forgot to grab some more art supplies before I came back so I need to go back home for a night or two but I really hate driving alone…” Steve let the silent question hang there, watching Bucky for his reaction. 

Bucky sat in thought for a moment, staring at something in the distance. The vines on his skin were slowly twisting around and around his body, curling over his taut chest and onto his neck. It was a full two minutes before he finally spoke. 

“I’ll have to think about it.” 

“You just spent two minutes thinking about it.” Steve scoffed. 

Bucky didn’t laugh. “Steve, I haven’t left this forest in over fifty years. Haven’t spoken to another soul until I met you. Not properly anyway. I just- even though I’m a terrifying supernatural creature that has murdered and eaten two men and one child before, I’m scared to leave this forest and face humanity again.” 

Steve stared at him in shock. He knew Bucky had killed before, they’d skated over the subject very briefly, but to hear him say it so blatantly with seemingly no remorse was a whole other story. Bucky seemed to notice Steve’s abhorrence and flinched. 

“Steve, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that I wasn’t- fuck.” Bucky stuttered to a halt as Steve stood up.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll- I’ll just go by myself.” Steve nodded, grabbing his pencils and drawing. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you later.” 

“No, Steve, wait! Please!” Bucky called after him desperately as he started to walk back to the cabin. Steve stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so casual about it all.”

“Do you even have any remorse?” Steve asked, dithering on whether to go inside or hear him out.

“What kind of question is that? Do you think I’m just some heartless creature with no soul or feelings?” Bucky asked incredulously, standing up as well. His vines were going crazy, travelling around and around his body. Steve could see tiny leaves popping up around his feet. If Bucky got any more upset, Steve would have a real gardening problem. 

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Steve shrugged, folding his arms and glaring at Bucky. 

“Steve, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you because I would have killed you too when you were younger.” Bucky snapped, a few weeds sprouting out of the ground around his bare feet. “I thought you were okay with this, Steve. We’ve talked about it all, over and over again. Maybe not the people I- look, I’ve been honest with you from the start. Why is it suddenly a problem now?” 

“It’s not, I just- you just said it like it was nothing. It just threw me off.” Steve mumbled. 

Bucky closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. As he did so, his vines slowed to a stop, returning to their normal tattoo-like state. “Steve, I have been like this for fifty three years. In the first few years, that was when I- killed people. But once I did, people stopped coming in. You were the first living person I saw since then.” 

Steve took a few hesitant steps closer, wanting to know more. Wanting to be close to Bucky, to not have this fear of him anymore. He wanted to get back that closeness they’d had the night before Steve had gone away for the weekend. “What are you saying…?”

“I’m saying that, I saved your life over a decade ago. It’s been about forty years since I’ve killed. I changed. I channel those feelings into other things now.” Bucky said quietly, sounding defeated. Steve was silent, processing what it all meant as he stared at the ground. “Steve, I need to know now, is this something you can get around? Because if not, I need to stop this now. Before it hurts too much.” 

Steve looked up at him suddenly. “Yes, I can get around it. I can- I’ll grow up. I’m sorry Bucky, I just- I had a weird weekend and I was so looking forward to coming back home to you and you weren’t here and I just… Yeah.” 

Bucky nodded and looked down at his feet. He pulled out the weeds, muttered an apology and threw them over the fence into the bush. “So, you wanna talk about your weekend?” 

“Ugh, Evan’s sister once again accused me of murder and basically forced me to demolish my house.” Steve groaned without thinking, returning to his seat at the table, dropping his pencils and paper. 

Bucky stared at him, his mouth open slightly. “Say what now?” 

Steve looked at him, realising what he just said. “Shit. I guess it’s my turn to share my tragic backstory.” 

\--

“Joey doesn’t share food!” 

“Oh my god.” Bucky chuckled, squeezing his eyes shut and slapping his thigh. The jolting from his thigh slapping knocked Steve ever so slightly and Bucky quickly stilled himself so as not to wake him up. He carefully maneuvered himself around Steve so that he was spooning him, enjoying the fact that he could actually do this. The fact that he had someone to talk to again. He wasn’t alone anymore.

The next episode of Friends was starting up but suddenly Netflix paused it, asking if Bucky was still watching. Bucky stared at it, unsure of what to do. “Of course I’m still watching it. Dick.” Bucky muttered, looking around for the remote. He spotted it sitting on the coffee table in front of Steve. 

“Fuck.” Bucky grumbled. He should be able to reach it without waking Steve up or having to leave the warmth of the couch. Very carefully he pushed himself up slightly, reaching his hand out towards the remote. He was so close, his fingers were almost touching it. He just had to reach a little bit further before he had successfully picked up the remote. But everything else had been unsuccessful. 

Steve was now lying on the floor, Bucky on top of him, panting ever so slightly. He looked up at Bucky in confusion. “Bucky, why- what happened?” 

“Sorry. I couldn’t reach the remote.” Bucky stated breathlessly. This was the closest they had been since the night before Steve went away. That had only lasted a few minutes before Steve had regretfully stated he needed a good sleep before he drove all day. So Bucky had just stayed with him until he’d gone to sleep, then he’d slipped out, returning to his favourite part of the forest. 

But tonight, there was something different. Bucky knew, subconsciously, that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Steve had spent the afternoon baring his soul to Bucky, telling him everything about his life. His dad, Evan, his mom. Bucky had learned more about Steve in that afternoon than he had over the month he’d known him. 

They’d eventually moved inside once it got too dark for Steve to see. Bucky had asked for lasagne and for them to continue watching Friends. Steve had eventually fallen asleep and Bucky had just kept watching. He hardly ever slept, not properly anyway, and he’d spent the last five days in a haze so he had no urge to shut his brain down once more. 

“What time is it?” Steve asked sleepily, looking impossibly cute as he checked his watch. “Jesus, it’s half three in the morning. I should go to bed. I have shit to do in the morning.” He yawned. 

Bucky nodded and struggled to his feet, standing over Steve, he held his hand out to pull him up. Steve took it, his warm hand gripping him tightly. Bucky hauled him to his feet, not letting go. He could feel a fire lighting within him, see it mirrored in Steve’s eyes. It had been god knows how long since he’d felt this way. Steve was impossibly close, their noses almost touching. 

“I should…” Steve croaked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Mmhmm.” Bucky nodded, the heat spreading throughout his body. 

They stared at each other for a moment, something passing between the two men. Bucky had no idea what kind of repercussions there would be if they went ahead but it wasn’t a thought at the forefront of his mind. All he could think about was how badly he wanted Steve right then. He wanted to feel Steve pressed up against him, to feel Steve’s lips all over his body, run his fingers through Steve’s hair. He wanted Steve. 

So he took action. 

He let go of Steve’s hand and put both of his on Steve’s waist, sliding them up onto his chest, to his neck, through his hair. Steve closed his eyes and let him, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Bucky let his hands explore the shape of his back, travelling down as far as he dared before moving back up again to hold Steve’s face. He traced his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip, staring at it hungrily. He was hungry for Steve. 

“Bucky…” Steve breathed out. 

Bucky was gone. He closed the distance between them within a second, pressing his lips against Steve’s, letting himself feel the pure bliss, holding nothing back. Steve’s hands went around Bucky and pulled him flush against his body, kissing him back forcefully, like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Bucky started pushing him backwards in what he hoped was the direction of the bedroom. He missed it by a metre and instead, Steve slammed into the bookshelf, books and ornaments falling to the floor. Something smashed but neither of them cared; it wasn’t as important as staying as close together as they possibly could while their clothes were still on.

Steve pushed Bucky away slightly for a moment, breathing heavily. “I just- I just need a second.” 

Bucky nodded, kissing him once more before letting Steve enter his bedroom alone. Bucky made a quick dash to the bathroom, pulling his hair tie out as he went. He turned the bath tap on and stuck his hair underneath for a few seconds. He squeezed the drips out and tied his hair back up before returning to the living room just as Steve opened his bedroom door. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m- I’m good. Just wetting my hair.” Bucky explained.

“Oh, right.” Steve smiled, leaning against the door frame. Bucky stared at him for a moment before launching across the room, grabbing his face to kiss him once more, but Steve stopped it before it really started. “I wanna take this slow.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s. 

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, letting Steve pull him into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and finally took notice of the room. It was usually messy with clothes and dishes dotted around but Steve had given it a proper clean at some point in the last two days. Tonight, he’d lit a few candles and dotted them around the room, giving it a romantic and relaxing atmosphere. 

“Steve, are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky asked hollowly, not wanting him to say no but feeling obligated to ask considering the day they’d had. 

“Yes.” Steve replied and pulled off his t-shirt. “More than anything I’ve ever wanted to do before.” 

“Even more than when you wanted to propose to Evan?” Bucky asked stupidly. 

“Seriously, Bucky?” Steve snorted. 

“Sorry! I don’t know why I said that.” Bucky laughed. 

“You dork.” Steve smiled affectionately. “Come here.”

Bucky took the few steps closer to Steve and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him gently. He pulled Steve’s shirt off before he pushed him backwards onto the bed, kneeling over the top of him. He leaned down and kissed Steve once more, bruising his lips with his own. He moved down, leaving wet kisses down his neck and onto his chest, down to his navel until he was face to face with the bulge in Steve’s pants. 

Steve lay there, watching Bucky so intensely that he thought he might explode with the amount of feeling he could see in Steve’s eyes. Bucky winked at him before turning his attention to undoing Steve’s jeans, tugging them down with the help of Steve lifting his hips. Suddenly Steve’s cock was there. Slick and hard and practically begging for Bucky’s mouth. 

It had been a very long time since he’d done this but his decades old instinct kicked in, along with something much more animal than Bucky was used to. He placed his mouth over the tip of Steve’s dick and sucked in his cheeks, enjoying the sound it pulled out of Steve’s mouth. He slowly lowered his head, taking in as much as he could. 

“Fuck, oh my god.” Steve moaned, his hands finding their way to Bucky’s head. They moved with Bucky as he started sucking like his life depended on it, moving up and down and up and down. Every noise that came out of Steve’s mouth was obscene. 

“Buck- Bucky, stop.” He managed to get out, motioning for him to come closer when he looked up.

Bucky crawled up, placing kisses wherever he deemed necessary before placing a final kiss on his lips, smiling at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I just don’t usually stay on the bottom for this long. Is that okay with you?” Steve asked hesitantly. 

“More than okay.” Bucky grinned. 

“Whoa, Bucky, your teeth are all sharp and pointy.” Steve said breathlessly. 

Bucky’s hand flew to his mouth. “Fuck. I can- should I-”

“Don’t worry. It’s kind of working for me.” Steve winked, flipping them over so he could pin Bucky down. 

“Steve, you kinky fucker.” Bucky laughed. 

“Damn straight.” Steve breathed out as he lunged down to kiss Bucky, holding his arms above their heads. He sat up and let go of his arms, instead he dragged them down Bucky’s chest, over the vines that were twisting and turning, little flowers growing everywhere. He reached Bucky’s pants and undid them, tugging them down to reveal that the vines did spread all the way down. 

“One second.” Steve held up a finger and leaned forward, smiling as Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s back and started kissing his neck. He reached for his bedside drawer, grunting as his dick slid up Bucky’s stomach slightly, and pulled out a condom and lube right as there was a sharp pain in his neck, causing him to shout out. 

“Fuck. Steve. Are you okay?” Bucky asked nervously. 

“Yeah, what happened?” Steve asked, sitting up as his free hand went to his neck. 

“I- I bit you.” Bucky said sheepishly. 

“Am I bleeding?” Steve answered his own question by looking at his clean hand. 

“Can’t even see a mark.”

“Well, just, take it easy.” Steve smiled easily. 

A couple of minutes later they were ready to go, both of them looking at each other in anticipation. Steve lined himself up and slowly pushed his dick into Bucky, moaning loudly at the tightness surrounding his cock. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he started to pull back out slowly. 

He opened his eyes to check on Bucky to see that his eyes had turned completely black as his mouth opened in a silent moan, his razor sharp teeth just visible. Steve was enjoying himself too much to care. He started thrusting with more speed and force, grunting with every thrust. His hips stuttered slightly in their rhythm as he leaned down to kiss Bucky, one of Steve’s hands in his hair. 

Bucky’s hands went around Steve’s back once more, his nails dragging down as he moaned into the kiss. He bit Steve’s lip, pulling at it in a way that hurt so fucking good. Steve broke off the kiss and buried his head in the pillow next to Bucky’s, putting all his energy into fucking Bucky into the mattress. Bucky was biting at Steve’s neck and somehow, Steve just knew that he would be bleeding but he didn’t even care. Everything felt so intense and amazing that Steve thought he might black out. 

Bucky let out a low guttural growl suddenly and flipped them over, something slightly sinister in his black eyes as he sat up and took over, his hands on Steve’s chest as he moved his hips up and down. Steve moved his hands to Bucky’s hips, intending to slide them up his chest but something was holding them in place. Steve watched, amazed as Bucky’s vines moved onto Steve’s skin. They spread down his arms and to his shoulders where they had already spread from Bucky’s hands. 

Steve felt them physically tighten their hold on him, holding him in place as Bucky brought them both close to the edge. Steve managed to regain control over his hands so he pulled Bucky down, kissing him messily as he reached down and started jerking Bucky off roughly. It only took a few tugs before Bucky was coming, shouting out as he collapsed on Steve momentarily. He started his movement back up again, whispering in Steve’s head without actually talking, coaxing him to do what he wanted. 

Steve had never been dominated like this before and he had never expected to enjoy it as much as he was. Bucky had complete control and Steve was happy to give it to him. Bucky could have asked for his soul and Steve would have handed it over in a heartbeat. He felt like he did when he finally came, crying out loudly at the sheer bliss of it all. 

Bucky’s vines returned to their owner and he rolled off of Steve, breathing heavily as his eyes and teeth returned to normal. Steve couldn’t form a coherent thought. Every time he tried to say something the words would just disappear. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Bucky finally let out. He looked at Steve and smiled. Steve opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t. He just nodded at Bucky, hoping it would convey just how good it was. “Oh. Shit, that’s me.” 

Steve’s words returned to him suddenly, and he grinned at Bucky. “Thanks.” 

“Sorry about- taking over. I wasn’t expecting that to happen. Was that okay? That- I didn’t cross a line?” Bucky asked nervously.

“No, it was totally fine. It was… good.” Steve smiled and struggled to lean over, kissing him before dropping back down; completely and utterly spent. He only just had the forethought to take the condom off and throw it in the bin before he let sleep pull him under, Bucky holding his hand loosely as he too drifted off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> better late than never. thanks for reading friends <3

Steve awoke to the sweet smell of roses filling the air, a soft melody playing in his head and a feeling of complete relaxation. He looked over and was disappointed but not surprised to see that Bucky wasn’t there. Instead, grown in the wooden windowsill, was a single red rose in full bloom. 

Steve smiled at it as he stretched out, a loud yawn that was more of a groan escaping his lips. He reached blindly for his phone to see two new texts and a missed call from Nat. He read the texts first. 

_This Witch  
Recieved: 03:57am_

_Steven Grant Rogers its been days since you left. where are you???? any news on getting the swamp monster up here??_

_This Witch  
Recieved: 04:33am_

_you’re the worst_

Steve grinned and called her, putting the phone to his ear and flopping back down into the pillows. It rang for barely a second before she answered. 

“Don’t call him the swamp monster. That’s just mean.” 

“Excellent. It’s sticking.” Natasha laughed. “Where have you been? What’s going on dude?” 

“He didn’t show up for two days. Lost track of time. And I haven’t asked yet so don’t even bother asking. We went through some shit yesterday.” Steve sighed, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Did you come clean about Evan?” Nat asked, the sound of the coffee machine steaming milk in the background. 

“Yeah… It just came out accidentally. But it’s all good now. We had a good night after that.” Steve smiled, his eyes dropping to the rose on the windowsill. 

“Well, now that you’ve crossed that line, use it to your advantage.” Nat said naughtily as Steve got out of bed and crossed to the door.

Steve opened the door and plodded out to the kitchen as he yawned, “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, you can shut up now. I need to be tactful and careful.”

“Yeah, okay, chicken.”

“I’m hanging up now.” Steve laughed. 

He dropped his phone on the couch as he walked past and into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to peer inside. He stared in dismay at the lack of food. He really needed to do a proper grocery shop. He closed the fridge and went to get dressed, accepting that in order to have breakfast he had to go out beforehand. 

He returned to his bedroom and started changing, smiling at the rose as he did so. He had no idea what to think about what had happened. He had always thought of himself as a top, hadn’t had it any other way for a very very long time. What did people call what happened last night? Was it BDSM? Steve frowned at the thought and promptly shook it from his mind. He was probably the only person on earth that had had sex with an undead entity. If that’s what Bucky was.

“Rusalka.” Steve said the word aloud, wondering if that was what he actually was. Natasha hadn’t seemed so sure. She was desperate to meet Bucky to make sure but Steve had no idea how to get him there. Then it occurred to him. Baby steps. 

He grabbed his jacket and keys before walking outside, looking around for any sign of Bucky. Luck was on his side today. Bucky was just wandering out of the forest, looking surprised to see Steve. 

“Hey! I’m just going into town to grab some breakfast supplies. You wanna join?” Steve asked casually, walking towards his car. 

“Uh- I- I don’t-”

“Come on. You don’t have to come in. It’ll be a twenty minute trip. Thirty minutes tops.” Steve smiled. “You can borrow one of my shirts.”

Bucky looked behind him before relenting. “Okay. Give me a minute.” He said, walking past Steve and into his house. He returned a minute later wearing one of Steve’s sweaters that was far too big for him. He looked incredibly weird. Steve was so used to seeing him without a top on, vines on display for him and the birds. 

“I haven’t worn a top since the day I died.” Bucky stated, looking down at himself as if he too found it weird. 

“Really? How come?” Steve asked as they got in the car. 

“Well, I wasn’t wearing one when I went swimming and afterwards I didn’t really feel it. It just kind of became the norm.” Bucky shrugged as Steve did up his seatbelt. 

“Huh… Put your seat belt on.” Steve nodded at him. 

“My what?” 

“Your- your seat belt?” Steve looked at him in confusion. “Dude. Oh man, you don’t know what it is. Shit.” 

“What what is? What are you talking about?” Bucky asked in exasperation. 

“This.” Steve replied, reaching around him and pulling the seat belt across him in answer. “Safety first dude.”

“What the fuck is this?” Bucky pulled at it, grinning at it. 

“They must have come about after you died.” Steve sighed in thought. He picked his phone up from the middle console and pulled up google to find out. “Huh, they came into effect the year you died. You just missed them.” 

“Right. Well, can we get going before I change my mind? It’s weird enough being in a car again, let alone a car that looks like this.” Bucky snorted. 

“Right. Yes. To the supermarket.” Steve nodded.

He turned the car on and gripped the steering wheel tightly to hide his nerves. They took off down the lane, the sun shining through the trees in a beautiful way that neither of them took notice of. They were both too wound up with nerves over what they were actually doing. Bucky was staring out of the window the entire time, visibly tensing up when they left the shelter of the trees and were just on the open road, farm houses dotted along the road. 

“Huh…” Bucky grunted. 

“What?” 

“Haven’t seen a cow in a while.” 

Steve snorted. “Really? I thought there were wild ones in the forest.” 

Bucky looked at him and rolled his eyes, relaxing just a little bit. It was short lived though because suburbia was suddenly upon them. People were out walking dogs, kids walking to school, and other cars were on the road. It was a very small town and it only took Steve a couple of turns to reach the grocery store. He pulled into a parking space and turned the car off, looking at Bucky. 

“You okay?” Steve asked nervously. 

“Not in the slightest but there’s no going back now.” He said shakily. 

“Do you want to come in? Pick something for breakfast?” 

“I can’t think of anything worse.” Bucky smiled at Steve. 

“How about sitting in the car?” Steve asked as someone pulled into the parking space next to them, looking over at the two of them briefly. 

Bucky looked at them before nodding at Steve. “Good point.” 

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s just a quick trip inside.” Steve explained, struggling to hide how nervous he was for Bucky. He could already see the vines on his hands and neck moving around wildly as if they were in a hurricane. If something happened and triggered Bucky to go all undead on someone, Steve would never forgive himself. Bucky would also never forgive him. 

Steve took in a few deep breaths before nodding once and getting out of the car. Bucky hesitantly got out after him and followed him closely inside, stepping on his heels a couple of times. Steve strolled down the aisles casually, trying to hide how nervous he felt for Bucky who was looking around everywhere, staring at people that even glanced in their direction. 

“Bucky?” Steve asked as he paused to look at some cereal. 

“Mmm?” He grunted, shifting on his feet, clearly agitated. 

“Relax. We’re just getting bacon and eggs.” Steve smiled softly at him, putting some oatmeal in his basket. 

Bucky nodded and followed him as he started walking again. They rounded the corner at the end of the aisle and stopped next to a mother shopping with her son. He looked up at Steve and froze, his eyes wide with fear. He tugged desperately on his moms sleeve as Steve and Bucky continued walking. It wasn’t until the boy’s voice got louder that Steve stopped to listen. 

“Mom. It’s the boyfriend burner, I’m telling you!” 

“Daniel, that’s enough. You couldn’t know that for sure. Just leave the poor man alone.” She snapped. 

Steve looked back at them, going cold inside. He looked at Bucky and panicked. He was staring at the little boy, his vines moving around on his hands and neck, his eyes completely black.

“Bucky.” Steve said quietly, putting his hand on Bucky’s arm. The little boy was looking back at Bucky in horror. “Bucky, not here.” 

Bucky blinked and looked at Steve, everything returning to normal in a second. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem. Just- calm down. Let’s get out of here.” Steve said nervously, swiping the bacon from the fridge nearby. 

He made his way up to the counter quickly, ignoring the weird look he got from the server as he paid. Within a few minutes, they were back on the road, heading home again in silence. Steve kept trying to think of things to say but nothing seemed right. So he didn’t say a word as Bucky stared out of the window like a depressed teenager. 

“Do you wanna watch something with breakfast?” Steve asked as they arrived home. 

“Yeah. I’ll pick something from the list.” Bucky sighed. 

“Bucky?” Steve asked, turning the car off and looking at him. “I’m really proud of you for leaving the forest.” 

Bucky gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“And thank you for the rose.” Steve leaned over and kissed him gently before getting out of the car to cook breakfast.

\--

“FUCK!” 

Bucky’s head snapped up from his book abruptly. He looked over at the closed bathroom door and started to stand up. “Steve? You okay?” 

“No! What the fuck!” He yelled out angrily. 

Bucky rushed over to the door and knocked twice as he opened it. “What’s wrong?” 

“This!” Steve shouted, turning around and pointing at the bites on his neck, his face half shaven and full of outrage.

“Oh.” Bucky frowned, struggling not to laugh. 

“I’m all for love bites, but not ones that will fucking scar.” Steve half smiled, tracing his finger over a slightly deeper looking one. He returned to the mirror to finish shaving, a reproachful look on his face. “No wonder that cashier was looking at me weird. I look like I’ve been fucking mauled.”

“Hey, so, I take it you haven’t had a look at your back?” Bucky asked hesitantly, eyeing up the red claw marks trailing down his back. He hadn’t broken the skin on these ones but they were still very visible. 

Steve looked at him in the mirror incredulously. “I swear to god.” He muttered, twisting around to get a look at his back. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

“I’m sorry!” Bucky whined, putting his face in his hands. “I don’t- I wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone was.” Steve sighed. “Okay. I need to find a way to cover these ones up. I’ll have to get some damn concealer before I go home.” He gestured to the ones on his neck, rolling his eyes at Bucky. 

“I’ll let you finish up.” Bucky grinned. He left the bathroom and sat back down on the couch, picking up his book but not actually reading it. Instead, he was deep in thought about what had happened the night before. 

Bucky was terrified. 

He was completely terrified of himself. He should have known that things would be different. He was partly grateful that he could still actually have sex and gain pleasure from it, but mostly he was just scared of how much he lost himself. He lost control. Not in a good way of enjoying himself, but in a way where something else was in control. Like Bucky, the real Bucky, was stuck in the back of his mind just watching as the monster within him did what it wanted. 

He couldn’t tell Steve about it either. He’d already freaked out about Bucky’s murderous past. How would he react if Bucky told him that while they were fucking, the murderous side of Bucky took over? He would probably run away screaming and never come back. 

Bucky needed to do something about it but he had no idea what. He could try and stay in control of himself but if he put too much energy into that, he might not have any energy for anything else which would make it pointless. 

Bucky let his head drop onto the back of the couch and he stared at the ceiling, fed up with his fucked up life once again. But suddenly an idea occurred to Bucky. An idea that was far more terrifying than losing control again. He stood up and went straight into Steve. 

“Hey, Steve, I’ve been- oops.” 

“Dude, do you mind?.” Steve snorted, picking up his towel and wrapping around his waist. 

“Not at all.” Bucky smirked, leaning against the door frame, enjoying the way Steve’s cheeks flushed. 

“What do you want? Can it wait ‘til I’m dressed?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t mind waiting.” Bucky smiled, making no move to leave. 

Steve stared at him before sighing. “Fuck it.” He dropped the towel and turned around, picking up his clothes to get dressed. 

“So I think I want to go to town.” Bucky stated, remembering why he’d come in again. 

Steve paused in what he was doing and looked at Bucky curiously. “Care to elaborate? That could mean one of two things.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve and didn’t say a word as he walked over to Steve, dropping to his knees in front of him. His idea to go with Steve to get art supplies could wait. Bucky wasted no time in getting Steve’s dick hard. Sliding his lips over the tip and tonguing it, using one of his hands to jerk him off, holding his hip with the other. 

Steve stumbled backwards slightly, Bucky automatically shuffling forwards with him until Steve was up against the sink. His fingers gripped the edge tightly as he closed his eyes, his mouth open slightly as Bucky worked him over. 

Bucky let go of his dick suddenly and went down on him completely, deepthroating like he’d never done before. Apparently in this afterlife he had no gag reflex. If the sounds falling from Steve’s lips were anything to go by, he wasn’t complaining about it. 

Bucky took Steve’s dick out of his mouth and took in a deep breath. “Wait here.” 

He jumped up and dashed out of the bathroom, loving the look of longing on Steve’s face as he left. He went into the bedroom and grabbed the lube from the bedside table, right where Steve had put it the night before. When he returned, Steve grinned and rolled his eyes. 

“What? You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” 

\--

“So, judging from the look on your face, when you said you wanted to go to town, that wasn’t what you meant.” Steve said breathily, kissing the top of Bucky’s head. They were lying in the bathtub, Bucky’s back against Steve’s chest, both of them utterly spent. There was water all over the floor and, though Steve hated to admit he was really enjoying it, there was a bit of blood leaking down his chest from the new bites Bucky had given him. 

“No… Not what I had in mind for the morning.” Bucky said sheepishly. 

“So, tell me. You enjoyed this morning? Got a taste for the modern world?” Steve joked. 

“I guess you could say that… There’s a route you can take to get from here to your home that goes through a town called Wellsford. That’s my home town…” 

Steve was silent for a moment as he processed what Bucky was saying. On one hand, he was thrilled that Bucky wanted to go with him. But when he thought about what Bucky might do when confronted with his old home, his parents’ graves, he got scared. Bucky almost had an episode in the grocery store over a young boy. There was no telling what would happen if he saw a friend from the past. But he couldn’t deny Bucky this. It was too important of a step. Too personal. 

“I think we can make that happen.” Steve said finally.

“That was a long pause…” 

“Yeah I was just… Thinking about it all. Would you want to visit the cemetery?”

“We’ll have to see how I feel… My brother should still be alive…” 

Steve stiffened slightly. “Bucky… You can’t…”

“Why not?” Bucky asked, sitting up and turning slightly to look Steve in the eyes. “I can cover up. Pretend to be a long lost son looking for his grandfather or something.”

“I just- I just think it’s risky. For starters, he’ll be old. You could give him a heart attack. If you lose control then you’ll let a whole bunch of people know you exist. Some of them might not be too keen to keep you existing…” 

Bucky took in a deep breath. “I promise I won’t lose control. I just- I need to do this. It’s been fifty odd years. I need this.” 

“Okay.”

\--

Later, when Steve was alone in his bedroom for a moment, he called Natasha, desperate to ask for her opinion on the matter. 

“How can I be of assistance Mr Rogers?” Nat answered the phone breathily, sounding like a twenty-something receptionist. 

“Don’t be a dick. I need your advice.” 

“Should I repeat the question?” She snorted. 

“Whatever just- listen. I don’t have a lot of time. Bucky went to the town nearby with me this morning to get breakfast supplies and we bumped into one of the kids that was outside my house that night when he- did the thing. He started to lose control but I stopped him.” 

“That’s great! So much progress.” 

“No, it’s not. He wants to go with me when I go home but he wants to visit his home town on the way. He wants to see his brother who is alive.” Steve stated, listening hard to make sure Bucky wasn’t about to come in. 

“Less great.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well you can’t say no. He’s dead. He deserves at least this.” 

“Exactly.”

“But the possibility of the undead swamp monster coming out to play isn’t ideal either…”

“Don’t call him that.” Steve whined pathetically. 

“Ugh. You lovesick puppy. Just- you’re just gonna have to keep an eye on him. Don’t let anyone film him if anything happens. I don’t see any way around it.” 

“Damn… Okay. I’ll see you this weekend then.” Steve sighed. 

“Good luck.”


End file.
